The Story of Us
by moonlessmondays
Summary: There is no world where his heart does not yearn for her and in any other realm she will always be his soul mate, just as he is hers. Just one shots that I've written, requested or when I'm just in the mood for them. Ratings may vary. Prompts welcomed. Will ALWAYS and FOREVER be Outlaw Queen.
1. I Believe In You

**My lovely friend SimplyMaterial tweeted me a prompt, and well, I couldn't resist. Thanks lovely for the prompt. Hope I don't disappoint. (** _If you haven't checked out her OQ videos on youtube, you're wrong)._

 **This shall fill in for what we all know would happen next episode where OQ are alone, Regina is wearing red and there is whisky on the table for Robin.**

 **Rated M for Mature, we all know the drill. Read at your own risk.**

* * *

It's started innocently enough.

She is tensed, that much is clear as she looms over the table, Emma's dream catcher in hand, looking at it like it holds the answers to the multitude of problems that they have and the key to freeing Emma from the darkness. He stands beside her, watching her in concern and in awe as she talks about Emma and the significance of the dream catcher, of Tallahassee, of Bae, and of dashed hopes and unfulfilled dreams, of the pirate and of renewed lives and second chances. She talks of the darkness, snuffing it out once and for all, and of how she wants Emma back and for all of this to be over.

But he can't say he'd been paying very close attention as he takes a sip of his whisky (and what a wonderful throwback to the time he had her alone for the first time and the tension had run high between the two of them that he'd practically felt the electricity running through him and jolting him), and he watches her, watches her beautiful face and expressive eyes, watches for every upturn and downturn of her lovely lips—zoning in on that lip scar that touches those very plump, very red lips, and his mind goes way south, and no he shouldn't think of this now.

"You'll find a way, Regina," he assures her, and she turns her head at him, looking at him with so much insecurity that he longs to haul her into his arms and kiss all of that away. He takes her hand in his and brings it over to his lips to place a ghost of a kiss against her knuckles, bringing it down once more and holding it tightly. "You'll find a way and we'll help you. You aren't alone in this, my love."

Her gaze doesn't leave his face, and he can see it, can see the gratitude that she feels for steadfast support, for his belief in her when she doesn't believe in herself. He feels it, feels her love for him in spades, and it only makes him love her more (he already loves her with his whole soul, more than his whole life and it's a wonder how he can love her more, but love her more he does, love her unerringly and endlessly), makes him want to make certain that she knows just that.

"I just want all of this to be over," Regina admits as her shoulders sag a little. She is still stressed and frustrated, he can see that, can read it quite well with the way her eyes flicker frantically over the expanse of this house, can see it in the way her eyebrows crease, he knows her well, knows the little things that make her _Regina_ , and this does not escape his notice, and he has come to cherish it even more now after everything that's happened. "I want things to be normal," she pauses here, and he raises an eyebrow at her, grins at her teasingly as she rolls her eyes and continues, "As normal as it could get anyway. I want more family time with you and our sons."

His heart flutters at her words, and he knows that she could be very well meaning to very separate entities when talking of their sons—his and hers and not theirs—but the idea that she mentions them collectively like they _are_ indeed their sons, that they are a family, well, it does things to him that he can't explain.

"And you'll find a way," he guarantees to her once more, because he does believe in that, believes that if there is anyone who could save this town it is her, that with the support group she has now—their own family, the Charmings, the dwarves, the people in the town, and begrudgingly the pirate—she can do this. "I believe in you."

It's the four words that does it, he thinks, that has her eyes softening, has her reaching over to him, leaning towards him, has her pressing her lips with his. He kisses her back, kisses her with the same passion and ardour that he knows she feels, that is present in her kisses and her gentle touches. He adores her, adores her so, and he needs her to know that as he pulls her in his arms and presses her supple body against the hard planes of his own, her curves fitting, molding perfectly into the contours and crevice of his own.

It isn't just like puzzles fitting in together, it's like finding his _home…_ in her.

He continues kissing her, as much and for as long as she allows (they haven't had much alone time lately, her stress levels being so high that she almost never sleeps until he has to all but drag her out of her library or her vault, and the other times that she hasn't her nose buried in a book to find anything that might help, she's doing her mayoral duties or finding more things about the people who have very recently found themselves in Storybrooke—that leaves very little time for frolicking, really), and he pulls her closer, pulls her until even he can't figure out where she starts and where he ends. He swipes his tongue on her bottom lip, bites it softly before sucking her upper lip lightly. He hears her moan, soft, almost like mewling, and he relishes in it, his arousal beginning to make itself known. She opens her mouth and grants him entrance when he teases the corners of her lips with his tongue and he slides in quickly. His tongue finds hers and he sucks it in his mouth before he smoothes it over with his own. He tries to memorize her taste, revel in it as much as he can, and she tastes good, so good, like apple and cinnamon and mint and something sweet that is so uniquely hers that has him addicted.

If Robin of Locksley is a junkie, then his own personal brand of heroine is one Regina Mills.

He shifts his hip slightly, lets his desire for her known, but he doesn't push, doesn't pressure her into it…he wants her, god he wants her so much it literally hurts, but he's not about to take her on the table unless she asks him to. She lets out another moan that has him growling deeply, has him pushing her red blazer off of her shoulder, letting it slither down the floor with a soft whooshing sound (the color has him thinking very delicious, dirty things, sending him right to the time he first made love with her), it has him locking her in a tight embrace. He thinks he can drown in her, in everything Regina Mills, and he is more than just a little disappointed when she pulls away from him, with a hand placed on his chest.

"Robin, no, we can't," she says, almost pleadingly, even when her eyes are a deep shade of brown, obviously dilated with arousal. "Not right now." She turns around from his arms and leans against the table, taking the dream catcher in her hands once more.

He looks at her for a moment, thinks maybe he shouldn't, but her hands are trembling, her whole body leaning in on the table for support, her knees obviously weak, and he knows, he knows that she wants this too. He places himself behind her and traps her in an embrace, one hand on the table as he leans over it to shore himself up, and the other finding her slim waist, dragging down to her curved hips. His lips find her nape and he has to push some stray hair away from her skin with his nose, his warm breath making her shiver and for goose bumps to rise up in her silky skin.

"I just want to help you loosen up, my darling," he whispers huskily against her fragrant skin before he bites down and then traces the bite marks down with his tongue. She even tastes sweet. "You look so tensed."

"Robin," she says in warning, her voice stern.

But he doesn't let up in his assault, his lips finding her neck and his teeth and tongue biting and soothing down her skin, his hands caress her everywhere they can reach, and his arousal is poking her on her leg. She moans, and he's sure that she's just closed her eyes and exhaled shakily.

He reaches up to her torso and undoes her belt, throwing it to the floor carelessly, he fumbles with her jumpsuit (or that's what she's told him it is when he's asked her earlier today, bewildered by the concept of it being one piece but pants), and eases it off her shoulder. He pats on her bottom lightly to make her step away from the piece of clothing when it falls down her body and pools at her feet.

"Robin," she utters, still sounding like she's going to protest. He doesn't give her time to do so, lifts her up in his arms and on the table, making her face him and attacks her lips in a heated kiss. She seems to forget her protest now as her hands reach to fumble with his belt, grinning victoriously when she undoes it and his pants, leaving it pooling at his feet. She pushes his jacket off his shoulder and lets him kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until they are both dizzy with pleasure.

His hand crawl down to where she is wet and throbbing, while the other reaches up to cup her lace clad breasts, palming it and thumbing its rosy peak. She lets out a moan, he knows how it pleases her when he stimulates both nerve-endings, and he grins against her mouth.

"Cocky," she accuses when she pulls away to grasp for breath.

"Let me show you how much," he teases as he takes her hand in his and leads her to where he is standing proud and erect, ready to nail her against this table until she is boneless in his arms, thoroughly pleasured.

She chuckles, a deep, velvety one that has his cock jerking, his desire for her growing.

"Good god, you're a temptress," he mutters as he trails his lips down to the column of her neck down to her breasts. He wastes no time, pushing the lace away from her covered treasures and sucking on her pebbled peaks. He smiles against her flesh as she throws her head back when his thumb flick against her clit and his fingers push inside her.

"More, Robin," she pleads, and he does as she asks, lifting his head to drop a kiss on her lips before shifting her just so to give him room. He pulls the scrap of lace that covers her sex down her shapely legs and pushes his fingers again, curling it at just the right angle to hit her g-spot. It has her babbling, mewling and thrashing in his arms, and he watches her intently, watches every change in her expression as he pleasures her. "Robin, oh god," she mutters as her muscles contract around him and he knows, he knows she's at the brink of pleasure. He smirks before ducking his head down and pulling her rosy peaks into his mouth, his thumb flickering once more to her bundle of nerves and his fingers pushing in and out of her. She lets out a loud, _ah, oh god_ , and then she's coming, and coming, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

He pulls away, pulls his fingers out, and holds her as she comes down from her high.

"That was…" she trails off as he leans down to kiss her and push the hair away from her face, "relaxing."

"Glad to be of service, my love," he says.

"But I want more," she tells him, her hand making her intentions clear as it finds his now throbbing cock and giving stroking it once, twice, making him shiver. "Robin."

He nods, knows that this is not the time to tease anymore, and knowing he can't possibly have the strength to tease anymore, and so he pulls her close, positions them just right as he slides into her. It's a feeling he can never describe, to be inside her, to be feeling just this right even the world seems to go wrong around them. This is a feeling he's never experienced before, not even with his wife, and it's a feeling he knows he will always cherish.

He drops his forehead against hers and closes his eyes as he thrusts away inside her, his speed varying from slow to fast, until he's plunging in and out of her deep and fast and hard, and she's thrashing in his arms, her moans and groans getting louder by the second. He himself is no better as he growls at the feeling of her around him, her snug heat enveloping him. It doesn't take long before they are both coming, together, like they always are, always seems to be, always will be. They are in-sync, one, soul mates.

"I love you," he mutters as he empties himself inside her.

She licks her lips and nods, still unable to say the words yet, but he understands, has even heard her whispering it to him when she thinks he's been sleeping and he doesn't hold it against her, they have a forever and a lifetime together and he can wait a little longer until she can say it freely.

He gives her a kiss and lifts her off of the table, crouching down to gather their discarded pieces clothing and handing hers to her. They dress in silence and for a moment, he imagines that this is just another day, and there is not a darkness to be snuffed, and they just gave into their desire and had sex on their kitchen table. It almost is like that, and he grins, turning to her and pulling her close as she fixes her belt, placing his chin against her shoulder and dropping a kiss to her neck.

"You realize that we just had sex on the dining table right?" he teases, pleased when he sees her face flush, making him chuckle.

She turns around and makes a face at him. "It _was_ great stress reliever," she quips, making him laugh harder as he pulls her closer and kisses her forehead.

He loves her so much, his heart threatens to burst at the seams with love for her.

"And now that I'm all relaxed and stress free," she says pulling away and grasping his hand only to lead him out the door, "We'd better work on this darkness thing."

He chuckles, pauses when they are right outside the door and kisses her once more, just because he can, just because she is his and he is hers and they are together. He presses their forehead together and gives her a wide smile, soft and encouraging. Trusting.

"I believe in you," he whispers, because he does. He really, really does.

 **Fin**

* * *

Thank you again SimplyMaterial for the prompt. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on tonight's installment of OQ porn haha :D

If you'd like for me to fill out a prompt for you, tweet me ( RegalCountess), DM me here or on my tumblr (breakingunbreaking) or leave it on the comments, I'll try my best!


	2. Hello

**Like the rest of the world, I have listened to hello by Adele and I am ready to offer her all of the grammy's. Anyway, I tweeted that I could NOT have been the only one who thought of an OS after listening to it (a few hundred times but who's counting), and well, it led to this. No one shoot me.**

 **TW: CHARACTER DEATH PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION**. This is AU.

My many thanks to the lovely SimplyMaterial for all her patience and for my panini RegalPixieDust for her encouragements.

I highly encourage listening to Adele's Hello while reading *laughs*

 _This is for the beautiful friendship that is NicLor._

* * *

 _"_ _Hello from the other side  
I must've called a thousand times  
To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done  
But when I call you never seem to be home_

 _Hello from the outside_  
 _At least I can say that I've tried_  
 _To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart_  
 _But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart_  
 _Anymore"_

He listens to her until his ears burn.

 **ooo**

 _"_ _Hello, it's Regina," she says as soon as the beep goes, her voice loud and clear, the deep dulcets of her voice fading into giggles as he chimes in with, "And this is Robin," there is a sound of a squeal and the sound her hitting him playfully on the chest, "We're not available at the moment, but we'll get back to you as soon as we can," she continues as regally as she could before the beep signals the end of the message._

He remembers that day clearly.

She'd kept that voicemail for years, ever since they first started living together. He'd been pleased about it, thinking how it was an important mark of their relationship, an indication of the seriousness of their relationship. He remembers how he'd captured her lips in a heated kiss after that, glad and eternally grateful that she was his, that they've found each other and they were in love. It had been years, five to be exact, but now he sits in his bed, head in his hands thinking of how that would change now, surely it would. After all, nothing lasts forever, not even blissful relationships—they all come to an end.

He just hadn't thought that their story would come to such an end, over a stupid thing too, something that seems so unimportant now as he is faced with the fact that she is no longer a part of his life and he needs to go on living without her. For five long years he'd gotten used to _us, we, ours,_ and now he's going to have to get used to the fact that those words no longer apply to them, they are no longer _they,_ instead, they are a _he_ and a _she_ , two separate entities and no longer together.

And he could apologize over it a million times but it won't mean anything, because you can only fix something too many times until it's completely broken and left beyond repair.

 **ooo**

He isn't sure how or where, but he does finally gain enough courage to pick up his phone and call her. It's taken him months to do it. But he did, he finally did, unable to restrain himself any longer.

His days stretch from seconds to minutes, to hours, until another night passes and he is still without her. His bed feels too cold without her by his side to warm it up, his arms are oddly empty without her to fill them, and his heart strangely hollow as she resides there but is no longer able to fill in the gaps left by her abrupt exit in his life. He'd tried, tried so hard to do as she had wished when they'd broken up, had stayed away from her and tried to erase her from his memory, delete her from his heart, and remove her from his life. He'd tried to forget, but ending a five year relationship does not leave without scars, and he realizes that now there is nothing left in him but the imprints she'd left in his soul and the bruises that marred his heart when she'd packed her bags and walked out of his life.

Sighing, he picks up his phone and dials the number he knows by heart. He places the device against his ear, his heart thundering and his pulse racing. It feels odd to be calling her and not really knowing what to say, to be waiting for her to pick up when he knows not what to say.

He hears a beep.

" _Hello, this is Regina,"_ her deep voice is as beautiful as he remembers, but there is a sadness that haunts it, the echoes of heartache clear in the way she speaks (but only because he knows her too well, knows every single part of her). He hears her voice crack and her breath hitch as she continues, " _I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message after the beep and I'll try to get back to you."_

His heart cracks inside his ribs, the sound inaudible, but he feels it inside, feels the organ breaking, shattering and he inhales deeply, exhaling through his nose as his eyes fall shut and he tries to regulate his breathing. The pain resonates, grappling, and it feels like it's never going to end, feels like it consumes him.

It is almost ridiculous how one single voice recording can break his heart so much, but it does, it breaks him, and it takes him a long, long time before he calls her again.

Yet when he does, nothing's changed, he's still on the other side of the line, listening to her as she, in the littlest way possible, takes him out of her life.

 **ooo**

It's a year later yet he finds that he still haven't found enough pieces of his heart to glue it back together. He realizes that he can't, not when he'd left it where it belongs, to her, and he asks himself: what is a puzzle when there are no pieces? How is he going to mend his heart when he doesn't have it with him?

He rings in their anniversary nursing a glass of whisky, the amber liquid trailing a fiery path down his throat, but even the bitterness of the liquid does not rival the bitterness he feels inside. He is broken, shattered to the core and he knows it would take more than just a bottle of whisky to numb away the pain.

Still, he drowns himself in alcohol, hating himself for associating the drink to her—but what is he to do when this is basically where their relationship started? How can he forget the night that he'd met his soul mate when she'd accidentally bumped into him in a bar, whisky in hand, and drenching him with the amber liquid when she'd tripped and landed right into his arms. She'd apologized furiously, telling him she'd pay for the damage she'd done, but he'd been too mesmerized by her flushed face and rounded eyes that he hadn't care. He'd told her he'd toss the whole bloody shirt, and that rather it was he that owed her a drink, after all, it was hers that had been spilled.

She'd raised an eyebrow at him, her lips quirking to the side as she finally tilted her head to look up at him, shaking it good-naturedly when she'd found him peering at her curiously.

" _Ah, you're going to buy me a drink_?" she'd taunted, and for a while he'd thought that she'd turn him down, pass him down as another slimeball in the bar.

" _I owe you a drink_ ," he'd told her, smiling at her and showcasing those dimples to _charm_ her as much as he can.

She'd have to be quite charmed because she nodded her head once, her eyes twinkling as she smirked, saying, " _Yeah, I suppose you do_."

He'd taken her out on a date then, finding himself falling for her charm and wit quite quickly (she's funny, intelligent and gorgeous, with a big heart and soft spot for children and animals despite her sharp tongue), and it had taken a short time for him to fall head-over heels in love with her.

And on the 23rd of May he'd asked her to be his lady, she'd agreed, and he'd been over the moon that she had.

They'd had a good five year relationship.

But on this beautiful spring day, on May 23, as he picks up the phone and calls her, wanting nothing more than to hear her voice if he can no longer have her in his life, he feels his soul being ripped apart, feels numbness seep through him.

" _Hi, this is Regina,"_ she greets, the sadness in her voice had gone and she sounds light, so far away from what he currently is, what he currently feels, and it tears him apart, " _leave a message after the beep and I'll try to get back to you."_

She sounds okay, sounds so much better than he, sounds like she'd moved on and found peace at last…so why the hell couldn't he?

 **ooo**

Christmas passes and New Year comes in with a rush, with a certain kind of anticipation that he doesn't feel. He feels weary, feels exhausted down to his bones, feels like he's grown old so much, yet he hadn't felt like he'd lived.

He spends the holidays in the apartment they used to share, memories of the past five years floating in his mind, and he tries to grasp them, tries to hold on to them as much as he can but they are slowly fading away, slowly digress to a painful reminder of what he's had and what he's lost.

He listens in for the sound and noises he knows are no longer present in the confined space. His constant companion these days are emptiness and the loud echoes of his heart breaking. He feels miserable, and surely he looks just as he feels, there is no doubt to that. His friends have repeatedly told him to get his life back together, to stop wallowing, that there is more to life than Regina Mills, but they don't understand. How can he make them understand that she _is_ his life, his _everything_ , and now nothing means anything without her by his side?

How can he even begin that she'd stolen every part of him, his heart and soul? (She'd probably argue that it cannot be stolen when it's freely given, and she'd be right, because he had given her all of him; firmly believing that she'll complete what is missing).

And so he does what he does best…he spends his time pining for her and what they used time in between trying to appear okay and pretending to actually be alright.

He tries very hard not to think of her, not to reach out, but sometimes it just hurts too much not to have her presence, to come home to a dark empty house that shouldn't have to be in the first place.

So he gives up and gives in.

He calls her, one more time because he needs to hear her voice, needs to let her voice be the balm to his aching heart. His spirit soars as her voice greets his ear, and it feels like the beginning of spring after a long winter, like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert.

" _This is Regina Mills_ ," he hears her say, sounding formal and clipped, but it's an act, he knows that. His thoughts are confirmed when she giggles, " _leave a message after the beep!"_

He wishes he has the courage to do just that.

 **ooo**

It's funny, how things work out when they do, when they are supposed to. He has always believed in the power of timing, and god, what rotten one he's got that on the time he calls her, after one and a half year of separation, wanting to leave a message, she actually picks up the phone.

"Hello," she greets, and this time it is definitely not the voice mail, it is her. Her voice sounds real, live, beautiful.

His heart stutters, stops beating in his chest, his breath strangled and whooshing out of him. He cannot speak, feels like there is something wrapping around his throat, or something is lodged in it and he cannot find it in himself to speak. His brain seems to not work as well.

"Hello?" she repeats, more questioning now than greeting.

"Hello," he stammers, barely letting the world out, and he sounds pained even to his own ears.

"Robin," she breathes out.

There is a moment of dead silence that ensues, the sound of breathing filling the quiet. He feels tears press against his lids but he tries not to cry, he doesn't really have any more tears left.

"Robin," she says again, always the first one to break the tension.

"Regina," he manages, his voice trembling.

Silence again as they wait each other out. The silence is pregnant with the words that needed to be said, but none comes out, the quiet sound of their hearts breaking filling in instead. She sighs audibly.

"I miss you," he blurts out, his mouth working faster than his brain, and he curses himself because there are so many other things that he could say, he could have tried leading with a sorry, but he hadn't. He'd blurted out exactly what his heart is feeling.

"And I you," she whispers into the receiver, the words sending him into a shock and rebuilding his heart bit by bit.

But the disconnection tone that follows her admission is just enough to break it again.

 **ooo**

She is the one who calls him next, just when he'd given up any hope that he'd ever hear from her again. He'd been surprised to see her calling, but it's a pleasant surprise, his mind going on overload. He hadn't known what to do then.

"Hello," she whispers. He can barely make out her voice, can barely understand what she is saying, she sounds like she'd been crying.

"Regina," he gasps out, almost disbelieving that this could be anything but a dream.

"I just…" she trails off then, and he waits, sits patiently as quiet as a mouth as she gets her thoughts cleared and she is coherent enough. "I need…"

He thinks he knows exactly what she needs but he doesn't want her to say it. He doesn't want to hear her say that he needs to let her go, needs to let her let _him_ go, because he isn't ready for that. He cannot say goodbye. A year and a few months later and he is still not prepared to say goodbye.

"I can't do this," she says with an exhale of breath.

He isn't sure if he means this call, or this conversation, or this limbo in which their souls remain tethered to each other, but stay apart leaving their hearts broken.

"Please don't call again," she pleads before she hangs up.

He doesn't even get a word in. He tries to call her again, but she doesn't pickup.

" _Hi this is Regina. Leave a message after the beep!"_ is what greets his ears instead.

 **ooo**

He finally does it, after months and months of calling her, listening to her tell him (well, not just him) to leave a message, he finally does that.

It's been after a long meditation that he does, and many, many days and weeks of her ignoring his calls that finally pushes him to.

He stares at a picture of her on his phone as he lies in the bed they used to share, wishing more than anything that she's there in his arms instead of this, instead of being apart. He traces her face, her smile, trying to commit memory every single part of her, knowing that there is no way that he can ever forget.

He does not ever want to forget.

He picks up his phone and dials her number, her infernal voice mail message greeting his ears once more.

"Hi, it's me," he begins, "It's Robin. And I know you said not to call you again, I know that you meant goodbye when you'd said that but I can't, Regina. I'm sorry. There is not a part of me that can say goodbye to you yet. I know it means nothing to you anymore, but I'm sorry, and if I could take it all back, change everything I will." He pauses as tears choke him and he is unable to do anything but suck in a deep breath. He closes his eyes and continues, "And I know that you don't want to be with me anymore, that there is no hope, but I love you. So I suppose what I'm saying is…" he pauses to breathe, "Even if you find yourself no longer in love with me, please don't ask me not to love you, because that is something I can never do. I cannot un-love you."

He is disheartened when only that damned annoying beep greets his ears.

 **ooo**

It's been two years and he had tried and gained some semblance of normality in his life. It is not to say that he'd gotten back the colors in his life that he'd lost when she'd gone, but it does mean that he'd gained some kind of treaty with himself. He'd accepted the fact that she's gone, that she is not coming back, and that from now on, he needs to go on with his life as if the past five years were not his everything.

He still calls her constantly, indulges in letting himself hear her voice through her voicemail, and he tells himself that he's only doing it so he can move on, _until_ he can move on, even when he knows how big of a lie that is. He doesn't think he can move from her.

He doesn't hear from her, but he hears _of_ her, hears her, because even after everything he still listens to her voicemail every day. He stills calls her, if only to hear that message once more, memorizing her words by heart, reciting it in his mind like it is a verse or a prayer, because it is all he has left of her.

But deep in the recesses of his heart, he still waits for that call that he'll never get.

He says he'll be okay without her, says he'll survive without his heart and half his soul, but it's not true. He can't.

He hadn't realized how true it is until one day he gets a call from her cousin.

"Robin?" Mary Margaret, her closest cousin, calls him out of the blue and it surprises him, shocks him to the core because they are not exactly friends, friendly maybe, but not friends.

"Yes?" he asks, confused when he hears her sniffle, her next words making him understand and making him feel like a bucket of cold water has just been dumped in his head, shooting chills through his vein.

"It's Regina," she says, and he doesn't even get to ask what's wrong before the words are rushing out of her mouth, "She's been hit by a car, and she's…she's gone."

He feels the world crumbling beneath his feet, feels his heart drop to his stomach and his blood to run cold.

"She's…" but he can't complete the sentence, the mere thought killing him piece by piece.

He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to feel. All he knows is that right now, he feels like dying right alongside her.

Fate is a cruel bitch and time is a fickle thing.

And sometimes, no matter how much he tells himself to play with the cards that he's been dealt, he finds that there really are things much easier than done, because right now, he really doesn't know how to deal with this.

 **ooo**

The rain is pouring and everything is gloomy and dark. He feels emptier than he's ever been, and if he's thought that losing her then had been enough to kill him, then losing her _this_ way had slayed him.

She's gone.

He doesn't understand, can't possibly understand. And he thinks that this is just a nightmare, it should be, but it's not, it's really not. It is as real as it could get.

He weeps in his bed, unable to even open his eyes much less get up. He'd lost his strength, his will, he'd lost his everything. And there is not a part of him that can believe this. So he calls her, thinks that maybe this is some cruel joke she's playing on him. He dials her number and places the device against his ear.

" _Hello, this is Regina Mills,"_ her voicemail message greets his ears and his heart sinks further into his stomach. " _Leave a message after the beep, and I'll try to call you back."_ **Beep.**

He swallows the lump in his throat as his tears come in anew. He lies back down the bed, tears coursing through down his cheeks, and he calls her again, listening to her voice once more, knowing that he'll never even hear her anymore, this would be the only way.

"I love you," he whispers through the phone as her voice message fills his ears, but his words float away, linger to the air, left unheard by the person he wants to hear it the most.

He'd call her again and say hello, beg her to come back, but she'd never pick up, never answer, never hear his pleas.

So he calls again and listens to her until his ears burn.

 **FIN.**

* * *

 **Please don't kill me.**


	3. Unlikely Timing

**Alright, because I seem to have "attacked" a lot of feels and "killed" a lot of souls, here's some fluff. Well, as fluff as this can get. I've written this when I first got into Outlaw Queen which was months ago, so yeah.**

 **Unbeta-ed, pardon my mistakes. Enjoy.**

 **I now present you** _Jealous!Robin._

 _for OQSeason3B_

* * *

He watches _them_ like a hawk, and has in fact watched them all night. He tells himself that it is okay, tries to think that this is indeed okay with him. Only, it isn't, and he can't keep telling himself that it is.

He really should not mind. Regina Mills is not a possession, and she will never agree to being one, even if there is nothing in this world he wants more in this world than to be able to have her, fully, to make her belong with him as he does with her. He doesn't want to own her, he just wants her to be his (and it isn't like he doesn't realize how conflicting his thoughts are), mind, body and soul like he is hers.

No matter what he feels about her and about _it_ , however, he doesn't do anything. He never wants to smother her, doesn't want to make her feel like she has when she's still married to the King. He doesn't want to take away her freedom (from herself, her scruples, and all her pain), not when she has struggled so much to attain it, not when she's only still getting used to this freedom. But damn it, he isn't made of stone, and he isn't particularly okay with _this_.

What _this_ is, though, he doesn't really know, can't really say.

Her laughter rings from across the room and reaches his ears. This particular laugh does not settle with him very well. _Granny's_ is practically full tonight, the townspeople have gathered there to celebrate another victory, and she is far away from him. She is sitting on one of the stools by the bar and he is there, sitting on a booth—they are at different sides of the room, yet he hears her laughter. And it annoys him. Granted, there is nothing more beautiful to him than her laughter (except perhaps, the sound of his name tumbling from her lips in a short, breathy gasp while in the throes of passion, but that is an entirely different story), but at the moment, this laughter annoys him. He hates the sound of it, and he drowns in ill concealed fury as he hears it.

 _That_ laugh, god damn it, is _his_. From the moment they have started seeing one another, through all the muddles, he is the only one she has ever granted that laugh.

He shifts his eyes to Little John who is sitting beside him, telling him and some of the merry men (Friar Tuck, Will, and George) about his adventures in the Storybrooke Forest. He tries to focus on Little John, on his friends—he needs to look away from Regina for a moment. He needs to distract himself _from_ her, as she distracts herself _with_ that man…that mad fucking hatter.

Who is he anyway? He wonders. He has not set sights on that man since he is brought over by the second curse. Regina surely has not brought him up, has not told his name, has not even mentioned it (though he knows, and it's: _Jefferson_ , his brain supplies acidly).

But more importantly, who is that man to _her?_

He sighs. Surely, she won't appreciate the way he is behaving now, and his thoughts. He has nothing to be worried about, he knows. But he can't help it. He can't help but think that after everything he's done, everything that's happened, maybe one day she will come to her senses and realize that she does deserve and can do better.

It is a gross injustice to her and her feelings, but he can't help it. He knows it to be the truth.

He hears her beautiful laughter again, and he inhales sharply while his hands ball into fists. He tries to quell the anger, tries not get _too_ jealous, and lifts his eyes to their son instead. He is over to the _Charmings_ booth, playing with Henry, who is now patiently explaining to the squirming Roland how to play the game on his _PSP_ (something that Robin thinks is wonderful in helping keep Roland quiet). He watches as his son and the teenage boy he came to love as a son laugh loudly before giving each other hi-fives.

It seems as though everyone around him is having a good time but him. But he tries not to be the party pooper, the Debbie downer, and he tries really hard. He lets his eyes roam around, lets his eyes shift to Emma and Killian, his sons, even to Leroy who is having some kind of drinking game with the Prince. He lets his eyes roam anywhere, everywhere but her. His hands are itching to touch her, his eyes wanting only to stare at her, but he refrains; tells himself that a bit of space won't kill him.

But, God, it does. It is.

His attachment to her makes even him nauseated.

Ultimately though, he knows he is fighting a losing battle anyway, so he lets his eyes fall back to her, settle on her. He takes her in, quite content at just looking for now, but wishing nothing more than to slide his arms around her waist and pull her close, tell every man who has ogled her for the past hour (and he could honestly say that there are only a few men who had not checked her out since they arrived) to fuck off. The queen, Regina Mills, is _his._

But by, God, she is gorgeous, he thinks. And he wills his mind to stay focused on her, on how breathtaking she looks in her red dress, instead of the man to whom she flashes her dazzling smile to.

Why on earth are they on different sides of the diner anyway? They have indeed arrived together, have even taken a booth for their own, but she has spotted that mad hatter talking to Tinkerbell, (and that damned fairy has waved her over and left not even five minutes after Regina reached them, leaving his girlfriend with that stupid hatter) and she's left him with a quick kiss. The kids left him too, and the merry men took over the seats, but all the while, all he's wanted was to be right next to her.

So why, why, why is he even in that damned booth anyway?

 _Right_ , he thinks, _freedom, space_ … she needs those, and he respects her so he'll give her that. Even if _she_ is smothering _him_ , ten feet away from him, filling his thoughts and making him so goddamn jealous that at this point he wants nothing more than to bloody Jefferson's lip.

But he knows she won't want him to make a scene. And in all honesty, he doesn't want to either.

He succeeds, marginally, until he sees the mad hatter place his hand on Regina's cheek, letting his thumb graze her skin, before pinching it slightly and softly that makes Regina smile so widely he can practically count her teeth from where he is sitting.

 _How dare he?_ He thinks. _How dare he touch_ _ **his**_ _Regina like_ _ **that?**_

His vision turns from green to red in a matter of seconds, and before he can think better, he is already up, his chair making a soft scraping noise against the tiles. He marches towards them, his ears red with anger, his nose flaring. He feels Friar Tuck and Little John's eyes on him as he walks, even knows that Emma and her pirate has turned to look as well. But he doesn't bloody well care. He doesn't give a fuck, not when she isn't looking at him or paying him any mind. And he wants her to pay him attention. He is her boyfriend for god's sake, not this damned hatter.

"It's bad form to flirt with other people's fiancé," he growls to the both of them, though his words are directed to the hatter. He slides his arm around her waist the way he's wanted to since they arrived. "Especially if that fiancé is mine," he adds, glaring at the hatter for good measure.

"Fiancé?" the hatter asks, barely able to hide the confusion from his voice. Then he smiles (the damned hatter _actually_ smiles) at him in a very amused manner.

Regina turns in his arms to look at him, her eyebrow shooting up so high, it almost as good as touching her hairline.

Well, okay, granted that they aren't really engaged, and he most definitely _should_ not have said that, but he doesn't really want to retract that. Not because he wants the hatter to back off (well, he wants that too, but it isn't the main reason), but because he has wanted to ask her that now for _months_. The only reason he hasn't is because he still fears rejection. He's been waiting for the right time to ask, and given the chance he probably would not have asked this way, but well, he's already claimed it, hasn't he?

He meets Regina's gaze head on, and he tells himself not to quiver. Yes, the woman he loves is the former Evil Queen, but he isn't intimidated by _Regina_. He never has been. And he won't start now, either.

They just look at each other for a long time, oblivious to everyone around them who seems to be doing their own thing anyway, oblivious to the mad hatter (mercifully and finally, he thinks). It is a struggle of some sort. A power struggle. And both of them waits for the other to snap, to break, to put an end to this and initiate the kind of celebration they both know they both want.

He can't read her eyes, and so he can't tell if she is mad, but at least she isn't frying his balls on the spot. That is always a good thing.

"Perhaps, I should get going," the hatter says awkwardly when neither one of them makes a move.

"That's for the best," he growls angrily, not once taking his eyes off Regina.

"Robin," Regina hisses, her eyes flashing quickly with anger.

He shrugs, but doesn't say anything.

Once the hatter has left, he all but drags her to the back of the diner, near the staircase, where they are out of everyone's earshot but everyone is within theirs. It is secluded, barely lit by the streams of light from the diner. He places his hands on her shoulder and squeezes once, twice before dropping them again at his side.

"Fiancé?" she asks, sounding a little incredulous, but her face never betrays it. It doesn't betray any emotion at all.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—," he begins but he quickly stops himself. Why on earth was he apologizing? She's goaded him, made him jealous, damn it. Besides, he isn't even sorry. "No, wait, I'm not apologizing."

"You're not?" she asks, and now he finally hears the anger in her voice. She practically hisses at him.

"No, I'm not," he says firmly. And the look that flashes in her eyes should be enough to scare any men, but not him. He's seen her in her worst, her best, seen her come alive and come apart in his arms. He is not going to be intimidated by her. "I'm not sorry for—I was being perfectly serious."

"What?" she asks, again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I meant it, Regina," he explains. "With the fiancé thing? I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine." He backs her into a wall and then cups her cheeks in his hand, leaning down to kiss her. His mouth moves over hers softly, convincing, pleading, wanting. He wants her to accept, say yes, but he doesn't want to bully her to it. He wants her to say yes because she wants to be with him, to belong with him.

She pulls away and pushes on his chest slightly, to put a little bit of distance between them. "Are you—," she pauses there as if afraid to say the words.

"Yes," he says, plaintively, "yes, I am Regina. Please say yes. Marry me." He sounds pathetic, that he knows, but isn't this a time of desperation?

Her eyes water, and she looks up at him with a watery smile. "Yes," she whispers as she pulls him to her once again, kissing him. When she pulls away, they are both panting, and she rests her forehead against his as they struggle to calm their breathing.

"You're sure?" he asks, sounding a little unsure.

She grins, the teasing light in her eyes alight. "Well, since you practically claimed it," she says, laughing.

But this is no laughing matter. "Regina," he says seriously, and she stops chuckling long enough to give him a questioning glance. "Regina, I don't want you to be forced to marry me. When I told that to the hatter," and he spats the word bitterly, "I wanted him to back off. I was so jealous. But that isn't the only reason, I have wanted to ask you, anyway, for the longest time…however, I am not going to force you…I don't want to be another Leopold."

"Robin," she says, as her hand runs up his chest, the heat of her skin seeping through the fabric. "First of all, you have nothing to be jealous of about Jefferson. He is just a friend, barely even one at times. He was offering me advice about well, you! Second, I want to marry you. I want this. You didn't force me, and you certainly aren't going to be another Leopold to me." The words soothe him as much as her voice has. "I love you, Robin of Locksley."

He smiles, finally, letting his irrational fears settle down. He isn't going to doubt her, or her love for him, or his for her, or their happiness.

"And I you, milady," he whispers as he places a ghost of a kiss on her lips. "I, you."

 **Fin**

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a/n: **Thoughts are appreciated and prompts are welcomed (it might take a while). :D**


	4. Patience

**Hello hello! Another oneshot. So a week or so ago, Simplymaterial and I went total crazy on our messages and well, there are just things that happen, and this is one of those accidental shit that happens, and so here we are.**

 **Many many thanks to the lovely Simplymaterial for her amazing beta skills.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Rated M for many reasons.**

* * *

Robin is a patient man.

If there is one thing about him that he takes much pride on, it's his patience and ability to let nature run its course. After all, he is a thief and he knows better than anyone how important timing is in any heist. There are just things that cannot be rushed, there are things that need careful planning and ample time before the fruits of labor can be seen.

But he is just man, and even his patience can wear thin.

And right at this moment, his patience has been worn down to the seams.

It had been bearable, at first, and he'd understood. He hadn't bothered her, hadn't badgered her, kept his distance and took care of their sons by himself while she isn't able to. He knows that she is busy, filled to the brim with the work cut out for her as the _savior_ , he knows that all she wants is to get back to normal, to get Emma back and focus on other things other than the shady residents of Camelot, among many other things—he'd understood that, supported her through it. He'd kept up with her schedule (and that had been a feat because her schedule is erratic, her plans changing at any given time of the day), if only to make sure that she even makes it to bed before the sun makes its appearance and she puts something in her belly before an eventful day starts.

She'd be gone for hours a day, and he won't see her, and mostly, given the circumstances, he'd be fine with that.

But hours have turned into days, stretching to weeks, and now he hasn't even caught a glimpse of her in any of the seven days of this past week…and well, he is tired, so goddamn tired of having to wake up to the cold emptiness when he'd already gone on to bed without her.

And he might be an honorable man, but he is a man with needs, and his needs include having her in his arms for longer than five seconds.

So he stalks over to the mansion on Mifflin Street, after having dropped Henry and Roland off at Mary Margaret and David's. He had promised both boys that he'll be over at their mother's house and get her to eat something and get her to rest, if it's the last thing he'd do.

Not even bothering to knock, he throws the door open and saunters all over her mansion, looking for her. It is almost comical how thunderous he looks and feels as he makes his way over to the library where he is sure he will find his girlfriend, doing anything but resting. He does indeed find her there as he opens the door, perched on top of her sturdy desk, legs crossed, her black dress clinging to her like second skin. His mouth waters at the sight of her: her glasses are on instead of her contacts, and her hair is pulled off to the side, a few tendril escaping. Her nose is buried in another one of her hundreds of spell books and she looks engrossed in it.

She is a fucking goddess.

"What are you doing here?" she asks him, startling him a bit, as she pries her eyes from the book and places it on the table beside her. She uncrosses her legs and looks at him coyly through the rim of her glasses.

He walks over to her and plants himself in the space between her legs and takes her glasses off from her eyes, carefully placing it on the table.

"I haven't seen you at all the past few days," he mutters as he leans over to her, his breath hitting her skin and visibly making her shudder. "Today is not going to be one of those days."

The last time he'd said those words to her, he'd had the best sleep of his life.

Her eyes widen before she is pulling him by the collar of his shirt, crashing their lips together as he wraps her in his arms, pulling her away from where she is perched comfortably and backing her against the wall near them (he's actually lucky that it's not lined with shelves and shelves of books), her back hitting the surface with a thud. He lifts his hand to cradle the back of her head and steady it as he dives in deeper into her mouth, his tongue sliding inside and stroking hers sensually. He tries to remind himself that he hasn't come for this, hadn't really planned on ravishing her until she has gotten something to eat or rested properly, but all thoughts come flying out the window as she slips her hand down his body, the warmth seeping even through layers of clothing, letting it travel from his chest, down, down, and further down until she is where he is aching, where he wants her to be.

He pulls away from her mouth, but not without biting her bottom lip first, liberating a deep moan from her, and it shoots right to his groin. His lips find the column of her neck, trailing hot open mouthed kisses against her skin. She smells good, so good, she tastes even better, and he can't help but lick, suck and nibble at the succulent flesh his mouth finds, until she is moaning loudly, her hand finding its way into his hair, her head angling to the side, exposing her neck to him even more, and her hips bucking against his pelvis (he thinks he might be crushing her in this position, his whole weight pinning her against the wall, but she doesn't make any complaints, in fact she pulls on him harder, telling him without words to rest on her more fully).

"Robin," she gasps out, her breath war against his ear and her already deep voice sounding huskier and more gravelly as lust takes over her body. Her eyes are a deeper shade of brown, he's sure, and he'd know that if he could only lift his head long enough from her neck to look.

He trails his tongue from the base of her neck, where her collar bone rests, up to her ear before he nibbles on her lobe. She only manages to let a soft sighing moan slip as she moves her head to the side to give him more access. But it isn't enough, not nearly, not to him, and he moves down her throat again, sucking against her pulse point heartily (and surely this will leave a mark and she'll set his arse on fire later for it, but it's worth it, god it's worth it as he tastes her sweet-salty skin on his tongue, besides the moan she'd just let out makes up for any charring that might happen later on). His lips, teeth and tongue find her cleavage that's on clear display and he clenches his hand against her hips where he's currently holding her.

He wants to rip her dress off so bad, god, he wants to run his tongue all over her body, taste every patch of skin and leave none untouched. He wants to devour her, taste her on his tongue to remind himself again and again that this is _not_ a dream, they are finally together, they are exactly right where they belong, and nothing, no more adversaries can rip him apart from her side.

"Robin," she murmurs once more as her hand tug on his hair to bring him back to reality.

It jolts something in him and he buries his face further into her breasts, his hand creeping to her back to unfetter her from the confines of her sexy dress.

"God, my love, you are so hot," he mutters against her skin, and he feels her shake, giggling at the feel of his stubble against her skin. He pulls on the zipper on her back, opening the dress successfully and then he pushes it down her shoulder, giving her a little bite for good measure, letting the dress slither down the floor haphazardly as her bare body is now revealed to him.

She gives him a smirk as she watches him stare at her in awe. "Wipe your drool, babe," she sasses at him, reaching out to pretend to wipe his saliva from his chin.

He growls and catches her hand in his, pinning it above her head against the wall before he ducks his head and bites her dusky peaks through the scrap of lace that she's wearing to cover her breasts. He reaches behind her to unclasp her bra and once her breasts are bared to him, his mouth finds the hard peaks and his tongue flicks against one and then the other, before he suckles on her nipples roughly, eliciting a long moan from her.

He'd always been a breast man, and god, her breasts are nothing short of fantastic.

He feels her wrap one of her legs around his waist and he lets her hand go long enough to hoist her against his hips, letting her core press intimately against his bulging member long enough to make her heat up even more. Her bra finds its way to the floor, along with most of the discarded pieces of her clothing, but he doesn't care about that, doesn't care about any of it, and neither does she apparently as she waves her hand and a cloud of light purple smoke surrounds them.

He finds himself standing in their bedroom with her still in his arms and he looks at her to find her grinning cheekily at him. He shakes his head at her and walks towards the bed, careful not to drop her.

He places her on the middle of the bed and then he pulls back just to stare at her, it's been way too long since he'd last seen her like this (two weeks is not long, he supposes, but it's long enough). She stares up at him with love reflected back in her eyes and he wants to float, wants to drown in her, wants to feel her.

"You're much too clothed, soul mate of mine," she teases as her hands come down to the hem of his shirt and she pulls it over his head, throwing it blindly somewhere, her eyes twinkling in glee when faced with the hard planes of his body. She runs her hand down to the waistband of his jeans and fumbles with his belt and unclasps his pants, helping it down his hips and off his legs, throwing it carelessly on the floor.

The distance is just so much that he can deal with, and then he's back into the warmth of her embrace, his lips finding her skin and then he's nipping, nibbling, tasting, sucking, licking. His hand finds her core, so warm and so wet for him, and he slips in a finger, and then another, curling it just right to make her _mhmm_ , her eyes rolling to the back of her head in pleasure.

He thrusts his fingers in and out, in and out, as she writhes beneath him, her legs folding and hiking to give him further access. He wants to taste her, his tongue longing for her, and so he does, his lips finding every patch of skin, kissing it, giving it soft sucking kisses that leave red welts, making her gasp out and moan out loud from his ministrations). He gives the soft skin under her navel ample attention, before he shift to the patch where her hips and her thigh meet, sucking on it, nipping it and then licking, making her pant and groan, mutter a string of curses followed by _Robin, please, ah, mmhmm._

(He likes her like this, incoherent and senses flooded by passion and desire.)

And then he finally positions himself properly between her legs, his face aligned with her wet heat, leans down and kisses her nether lips with gusto, his hand coming up at the back of her thighs to hold her steady, to open her further to him.

She tastes good, tastes like something sinful, something deliciously forbidden, and he wonders if he could ever get tired of this, knowing resolutely that the answer is no, he never will, he loves her, loves her like this—pleasured, thrashing in bed, making sounds that he is pleased to think for him only, her hair getting mangled but she doesn't care. He loves her, every single juicy part of her.

She makes a mewling sound, "I'm ugh, mhhmm, close, Robin," she moans, head thrashing.

He continues lapping at her until she comes, and he cleans her up, licking at her.

She pushes his head away and in an instant, she reverses their position, pushing him down on the bed and placing herself between his thighs. He is barely able to register everything before she is sucking him in her mouth, her cheeks hollowing. For a while, the sound of slurping and sucking, combined with his moans and groans fill the room. His hand rests on the back of her head, carding through her soft tresses.

When she sucks him in a particularly delicious way that has him bucking his hips, thinking he might come if he doesn't put a stop to this, he tugs lightly on her hair, asking her without words to come up.

She looks him in the eye eyes, a glint nestled in her dark brown orbs and a grin on her luscious lips, grinning at him in that way that tells him that she's bad news, and one of the best things that has ever happened to him. She lets him go with a pop.

"I need to feel you now, my darling," he whispers as she crawls her way up his body, aligning their faces and ducking down to crash her lips to his.

His hands settle on her hips and then he's helping her down to his shaft, letting her feel him fully, and he watches her face contort into pure pleasure, her perfect white teeth peeking out as she bites her bottom lip.

He could come just watching her.

And then she's moving against him, thrusting up and down in a deliciously, torturously slow way that drives him insane. She knows it, the little minx knows it, and she goes on like this for a while until it becomes unbearable for her as well and then she's moving faster on top of him, breasts bouncing, hair flying in every direction.

And all he can think of (aside from the obvious), is that she is beautiful, so beautiful when she has no inhibitions, when she is free, and he falls for her more deeply when she is like this because he knows…he knows that she is only like this with him.

But he needs more, he thinks, needs to feel her snug heat enveloping his thick length more. Without a word, and with agility that surprises even him, he flips them over until she is on her hands and knees and he is kneeling behind her, hands on her hips and pounding into her like a mad man. There is a brief moment when she looks at him over her shoulder with displeasure, sure, she wants to be on top, but it melts into pleasure when his fingers find her clit and he flicks the bundle vigorously. He pistols in and out of her, his hard shaft nailing into her with precision, and she is mewling, moaning and groaning. He can feel her tightening around him, her muscles clamping against him over and over again, and it's a wonderful sensation, she is tight and hot, and god, he can feel himself losing control.

The sound of skin slapping skin vigorously fills the silence. He can feel the soft skin of her heart shaped derriere hitting his hips and it makes him grow harder, grow longer. She is moaning louder now, gasping and calling out his name, letting a string of curses unfit for a queen slip past her lips, and he is thrusting into her, meeting her hips at every forward and backward motion until they are both coming together, their orgasms both coming slow, burning from deep within their bellies, spreading throughout their bodies, sending chills down their spines.

"I love you," he murmurs as he pulls her to his pelvis, letting her feel him one more glorious time before he collapses in bed beside her, his hand hauling her body down into his arms, and he feels her press kisses against his sweat-soaked skin as he rubs her back up and down soothingly.

There is a beat that passes as she lays on her side, face buried against his chest. Then she looks up at him, squinting to see his face through the dark.

"Good things come to those who wait, wouldn't you agree?" she teases him as a lazy smile spreads across her face.

He pulls her closer, not once pulling out from inside her, and cards his finger through her hair, pushing back some loose tendrils to the back of her ear. He grins at her. "I'm a very patient man, my love," he teases right back, "For you, I can wait forever."

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Would love to hear from you all. I shall be able to post something again sometimes this week!**


	5. Tears In Heaven

_As part of the #AngstDay2k15 that I've just imposed upon myself, here have some angst._

 _I'm not bitter haha i'm just angsty._

For Geli. Thank you to my sweet friend Jen for her pre-read and pre-approve! :)

 **TW: Death. Miscarriage. Don't read if sensitive. Thanks.**

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 _|Would you know my name_

 _If I saw you in heaven?_

 _Would it be the same_

 _If I saw you in heaven?|_

Regina shrugs on her coat as she hurriedly makes her way down the stairs. Her heels make a loud click-clacking noise against the floorboards as she tries to carefully reach the last landing. Her husband is right behind her, her (well, his, actually) burgundy scarf in his hands. He pulls her by her elbow once they near the door, and then nips her by the waist.

She smiles and playfully pushes him away. "I'm going to be late," she says with a roll of her eyes as he leans down and kisses her, his hands sneaking looping the scarf around her neck. She breathes in a little sharper when he pushes his tongue inside her mouth. "Robin," she tries once more. "Gold is going to be displeased if I'm tardy."

Working at Storybrooke firm has its perks, one of them being on the top law firm in the whole of Manhattan, but it has its downsides—one of those is working for Gold who is a stickler for time and would definitely raise all hell if someone is late. So she does need to go…but that thought is pushed further into her mind as Robin kisses her once more and slides his tongue in her mouth, playing with her for a while and making her breathless before he releases her lips.

His hands come down to touch her not so little bump (it's humongous in fact, she's due any day now and she's going over her maternity leave which is why she's having this meeting with Gold). He pushes her coat away, and she lets him feel her bump as much as he wants, smiling as he does so.

"Take care of my little gummy bear," he says, making her smirk and raise her eyebrow. He'd taken into calling their child gummy bear ever since he's seen the sonogram picture and declared it to look like one. She'd never been able to dissuade him from doing so. "And take care of yourself, my love." He leans down again to kiss her.

She nods as she tightens her hold against him. "I love you," she whispers. Their lips are centimeters apart and she feels his breath tickling her face.

"I love you too," he says, pecking the tip of her nose, before he nuzzles it with his. "Keep safe, and I'll be waiting for you to come home."

She nods before she pulls away and walks out of the door with a smile.

 **…**

She feels the first strings of labor as Gold goes over some facts of her maternity leave. Not that they haven't discussed this before, or anything. She tries to focus, tries not to think or panic, but the pain becomes intense from her lower back down to her front.

She grimaces as another wave of pain knocks her back and makes her lean back against her chair. She should have listened to Robin and had had Gold over. But she'd wanted to do things, rather than just sit at home, fiddling her thumbs. So she'd gone. She regrets it now.

"Regina?" Gold asks, a look of concern falling over his features, "Are you okay?"

She opens her mouth to answer, but just then, her water breaks and a wave of pain hits her again. She isn't able to hide the moan that escapes her lips this time.

"Call 911, then call my husband," she says, almost pleading as the pain intensifies. "I think I'm going on labor."

She'd have laughed at the look of horror that crosses Gold's face if she isn't in so much pain.

 **…**

He sits on one of those plastic chairs in the waiting area as he wonders what has happened to his wife. This is their first baby, and they have been told that it might take longer, be more painful for her…but he worries, and he worries very much, so he stands once more and starts pacing. Beside him, Killian—his best mate, and the first one he'd called whilst driving to the hospital—groans and slaps his palm on his face.

He's asked Robin to calm down twelve hundred times as of the last half an hour.

"Mate, she's going to be fine," Killian says with a look of exasperation. "Look why don't you go call her family or something?"

Robin has already called Regina's mother and father, her cousin Mary Margaret, and is now just waiting for them to arrive. He shakes his head no and starts his pacing all over again.

"Fine," Killian says, standing up now. "I'm going to get something to drink. You want something?" he asks, as he points down to the corridor, when Robin shakes his head no, he sighs and then disappears once more. All the while, he's fishing out his cell phone, no doubt trying to call his girlfriend, to give her an update. Whatever.

Robin paces, watching the door closely. He's been asked to go out for a while as they prep his wife, and will be called in once everything is settled down. When the door pushes open, he rushes towards it and looks at the doctor expectantly.

"You may come in," the doctor says, nodding at him. "It might take a while, though before she actually goes to labor. She is only five centimeters dilated."

He nods and thanks the doctor before he rushes inside the room. He finds his wife in bed, looking over to him with a tired smile. She'd make a brilliant mother, he's sure.

"How are you?" he asks softly as he takes the seat beside her bed and takes her hand in his. He lifts and places a kiss against her knuckles, watching her closely.

"Tired," she says, shrugging. "In pain, but it'd be so worth it." She gives him a megawatt smile that makes her even more beautiful.

"You've never looked so beautiful as you do now," he whispers, scooting over in order to kiss her lips. God, he loves her so. "I love you."

"I love you too," she says, grimacing as another wave of pain hits her. "But I'm going to cut off your dick so you don't do this to me again."

He laughs, and then moans in pain when she grips his hand too hard. But he doesn't mind even if she breaks his bones. She's the one who's about to deliver their baby.

"She's going to be beautiful, just like you," he says with reverence, stroking her hair back from her forehead.

She looks at him with glassy eyes. "You want it to be a girl?" she asks softly, eyelids fluttering.

"It doesn't matter," he says, because it doesn't—what matters is it's his and hers, a product of the love they share. "As long as it's healthy."

She nods and agrees with him. "Gummy bear is going to be so loved," she whispers as her hands come down to rub her belly.

"And you, my darling love, are going to be a wonderful mother," he says, his heart warming when she turns and gives him a watery smile.

 **…**

It takes hours, more like a day, before she is dilated enough to go on labor. Her parents and her cousin have arrived. Her mother has been a calming presence, stroking her forehead and holding on to her tightly when she is hit by a contraction. She's screamed more than once to get the baby out of her body. But when the doctor has sad that it's time, she feels panic rise up her throat.

"No, I'm not yet ready," she says, tearfully, grabbing her husband's collar so they are face to face. "Tell them I'm not ready to give birth, I can't have the baby yet." But the pain is too much, she thinks, and she screams in agony.

Robin kisses her forehead. "You can do this my love," he encourages her with a smile. "Let's go meet our gummy bear."

 **…**

It is the most agonizing pain she's ever felt in her life, and god, she'd thought more than once that she is really going to cut her husband's penis after this. The doctor keeps telling him that it's one more push before her baby is out, but she thinks that it's been one last push ten minutes ago and still no baby.

"Love you can do this," her husband says as he holds her hand in his.

She turns to him and glares. "How about you fucking do this? You're not touching me again, Locksley," she snaps.

Robin nods, looking far too solemn for it to be real. "Whatever you want my love," he agrees readily, no doubt trying to appease her pain. "But just a few more and you get to hold our baby in your hands."

And a few more pushes she does, before the baby is fully out. She breathes out a sigh of relief, collapsing against the bed, failing to notice the look on the doctor's face. Robin is holding her, whispering praises against her ear, kissing her forehead.

She could see the doctor patting her baby's bottoms before she closes her eyes and tries to regulate her breathing.

It is rather belatedly that she realizes that her baby isn't crying or wailing.

Isn't it supposed to be crying?

She looks at her doctor and finally notices the look on his face. "Doctor?" she asks in a voice laced with panic.

"I'm sorry," the doctor says, shaking his head. He looks at Regina with sad eyes. "The baby isn't breathing."

The world feels like it's closing in around Regina and she feels like she couldn't breathe. Beside her, she feels Robin stiffen, a cry of anguish escaping her lips.

"No," Regina growls in a feral manner that has the doctor stepping back. "Give me my baby! It can't be… no, it's not…it can't be!" She feels tears wet her cheeks as her heart breaks. This cannot be happening. She's carried that baby in her arms, felt it kick inside her womb…it can't have been dead.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Locksley," he says, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Locksley."

She feels Robin gather her into his arms as she sobs, asks for the doctor to give her baby back, it can't be true, her baby isn't dead and if they could just let her hold it…

"What was it?" she asks, because they never really knew, wanting to be surprised (they've decorated the room in a gender neutral way, not wanting the surprise to be spoiled).

"It was a girl," the doctor says before taking his exit just as Regina lets out a cry, the pain in her chest making her expand more and more until it shatters into pieces. Robin holds her in his arms, the pain that he feels quietly leaking from his eyes.

 **…**

It's been weeks, weeks since she's given birth to a stillborn daughter. She wonders constantly what her eyes could have been…they'd have names her Harper…Harper Lily. But she's gone now…and Regina never had the chance to hold her.

She stays in Harper's room most days, sitting on the rocking chair they've placed by the windows. She's imagined herself sitting there so many times, nursing her child, as Robin watches from the door.

There is no one to blame…nature only ran its course. But the pain is looking for a place to blame and it finds her, her heart filling with guilt that not even her husband could assuage.

She sits on the rocking chair now, hand on her now empty belly. She feels hollow now, feels like she's failed, feels keenly the emptiness brought by the loss of her daughter.

She hears the door creak, and she doesn't have to lift her head to know that it's her husband, come to check on her once more, make her eat something, or anything. She hears his footsteps, feels the heat radiating from him enveloping her senses. She wants to share his burden, wants to share his pain, but she feels so heavy, her heart and chest so painful that she can't. Not yet.

Tears leak from her eyes nonstop and she wishes she could bring back time. Silently, her husband lifts her into his arms, and cradles her as he lowers himself on the rocking chair. He rocks them back and forth, letting the beats of their heart to fill the silence that has stretched between them for so long. She feels him press kisses on her forehead and she leans into his embrace further.

"I never got to hold her," she says, as sobs rip from her throat. "I never got to see her eyes."

"I know my love," he says, his voice cracking, leaking with the pain she knows he feels.

"Will she still know us?" she asks as she feels her heart drop, drop lower until it shatters into the ground.

All she's ever wanted was to have her child in her arms, here with them, safe, protected…alive.

"Even if she's in heaven?" she continues with a small voice, as she shrinks further into him, feeling small and frail in his arms.

"Of course," he answers with a nod, his hand rubbing her back up and down. "She'll always know how much we love her, Regina." He pauses and she feels his tears wet her hair, making her hold on to him tighter. "And we'll see her again, someday."

She nods, quiet now, as she cries, and he cries with her…and for the first time, their tears mingle as they share this pain together.

| _Beyond the door,_

 _There's peace I'm sure,_

 _And I know there'll be no more  
Tears in heaven._|

 **Fin. (11/26/15)**

* * *

 **Sorry.**


	6. Together

_I was originally going to post this separately but it hadn't turned out the way i wanted it to, meaning it's crappy. but i just hate, hate, hate with a passion how badly the show is dealing with all of these crappy sl. anyway, since we've been told that they have talked somehow (i must be asleep when this happened), i just had to get it out somehow. i don't think this fic makes much sense. but yeah._

 _without further ado, enjoy!_

 _PS. unbeta-ed for a lifetime. ignore them mistakes._

* * *

He's always had the uncanny ability to predict what she might feel about things, at any given day. He knows her, feels her, is in sync with her and everything that she feels. He does so, so much, that he tries to be more cautious around her, about the baby—the innocent life caught up in this mess of tangled lies, and hatred and spite. The one innocent life that he sometimes wishes has never been created, if only to spare them all of this pain.

He doesn't blame her, can't quite help but feel sympathy for her whenever the baby (one that he wishes was hers and his, and not born out of circumstances as this one, but fates has worked in devious ways, and now they are stuck in the choices he's made, stuck in the repercussions of every lie and every revenge set to motion) is mentioned. He can't quite help but catch that glimmering pain in her deep brown eyes whenever the subject comes up.

Not that it does often, really. She seems to avoid any conversations about it, apart from the one they've had about her not anymore wanting to stand in the way of her own happiness, and sometimes, in the dark of the night as he holds her tired body in his arms after a long day of chasing after endless dead-ends to help Emma out of the darkness (mostly because she feels guilty), she makes brief mentions of how they are going to have adjust with a newborn, where they should let her sleep. They talk about it, yes, but not enough, not nearly enough.

And not about the things that matter.

He still hasn't talked to her about what she feels about it, hasn't told her what he feels about it. He tells himself it's for her, because he doesn't want to hurt her further, but mostly because he's scared of what she'd say. Oh he is a coward, alright, and he knows it. He is afraid of hurting her once more with his callousness, knowing that this—what he's done, what he has fallen into is hurting her enough at the moment. So he keeps mum about everything that is related to the baby, or her villainous sister.

He hasn't talked to her about Roland, and what they are going to tell the tyke who has taken into clinging to Regina most days. Regina is a good sport, rolls with it most days, and lets Roland cajole her into one more book, even after the three they've already gone through. She gives him extra cuddle time whenever she can, and the boy eats it up like a ham because they come far and few in between now that Regina is busy. He hears them, at night, they talk about everything—those big growling animals he's seen from that movie that Henry showed him, the one with the big, sharp teeth and the claws, and has scales—Dinosaurs, she'd tell him—and all of Roland's dreams and adventures, but they never talk of what matters, not of his little sister coming, and how and where it came about. He knows she doesn't say anything because she doesn't think it's her place, and he knows he doesn't say anything because he doesn't know what to say.

He hasn't talked to her about his feelings, of how lowly now he thinks of himself, of how betrayed and deceived he feels, and how violated. They don't talk about that.

But there are just so many ways and so many times that they could avoid it, and honestly, he doesn't think they could go about not talking about it anymore. He could hide his enthusiasm and love for the innocent life created out of spite and deceit, but he can't hide the simple fact that it _is_ there, no matter how fucked up their situation is.

He's always planned to talk to her about it.

He's just never thought she'd be the one to bring it up first.

"I know it's her ultrasound today," she tells him as she steps into the bedroom they share. He had been reluctant at first, to live in her house, her son is there, and they have so many creases in their relationship they needed to straighten out before that step, but she had put her foot down, saying that if he doesn't want to do it for himself, then he should at least do it for Roland (she's expressed her concern for his safety and had only glared at him when he'd insisted that the Locksley men are men of the forest, had been for all their lives and are in no grave danger)—and he'd given in. It took weeks, however, for him to officially move in to her bedroom, because he'd wanted her to adjust to them being there at first. He had sensed her reluctance, as well, and he understood. "Robin?"

Her voice breaks his reverie and makes him look up at her. He could read her well, or so he hopes, and he could read the pain in her eyes—which is why he'd never talked about it with her, in the first place. He nods.

"Yes, she did," he confirms, patting that space beside him on bed. He is resting his back against the headboard, the boys having gone to sleep hours ago, and she'd shooed him out of the library, so he had tried to get out of her way by readying and settling himself in bed.

She shakes her head and opts to remain standing at the foot of the bed. "You didn't tell me?" she asks, but it's an accusation, he could hear it, and he feels his heart break, for the millionth time since Marian, or fake Marian, has returned.

"I didn't think you'd want to know," he says, the words slipping from his mouth before he could filter them. It's the truth, he doesn't think she'd wanted to, really, knowing it's painful for her. The gasp that escapes her lips is enough to make him want to bury himself alive. "I'm sorry. I only meant to say that I know how hard it is for you—and you're already so stressed, I hadn't want to burden you even more."

Her fists are clenched at her sides, and she bites down on her trembling lips as she looks away. "It's not a burden," she whispers quietly.

He hates this…hates that she doesn't want to open up to him and just tell him (even if he doesn't want to hear it, he supposes that she needs to get it out, and who better hear it than him?).

"Isn't it?" he asks, and damn, there's his mouth again.

She looks at him sharply, head whipping in his direction so fast that it makes her neck pop loudly. Her eyes widen and she looks like she's physically restraining herself. God, he wishes she'd hit him, if it would make her feel better.

She doesn't speak though, and somehow, that only makes everything worse.

"I know you're hurting," he says softly, not wanting this to turn into a fight after all (because he is just a man, and he is selfish, wants her, wants her for himself and is afraid of pushing her too much, too far that she might snap and leave his sorry ass behind). "I know nothing is easy for you right now, it isn't for me, and I created this mess—,"

She cuts him off. "No, she manipulated you," she says in a soft whisper, reminding him once more of the deceit and the ache in his chest that he'd felt when he'd been with who he thought was his wife—he felt like being ripped in half, he feels that now too. "She used your honor against you."

There's no point in denying that.

"I should have never given up on you, though," he says, and it's true. "I should have tried harder to hold on."

She finally takes a seat on the bed, at his foot, the mattress dipping just slightly as she settles down. "What's done is done," she says in a final tone, but still sounding defeated, like there is nothing left to do.

There isn't any way to change it, certainly, but there's always the future—that, they can change.

He reaches out a hand to her and she takes it, crawling on the bed until she's in his arms, settled between his legs, back to his chest. He could feel the tension in her shoulder and he leans down to kiss her shoulder blades.

"Tell me what you're thinking love," he begs. But she remains quiet, not speaking until the silence stretches and stretches and minutes go by with that heaviness in the air. He continues quietly, "I'm angry. I'm angry at your sister, for using Marian for her revenge, for using my son and doing all of this elaborate scheme she's devised and set in motion to hurt us, to hurt you."

It seems she won't be speaking first.

"Robin, I'm—," she tries to say but he shushes her with a kiss and his palm pressing against her abdomen lightly.

"It's not your fault," he tells her sincerely. "None of this is. It's mine, and Zelena's. It's Zelena's because she's doing this out of spite, out of hate, out of something that your mother had done, and not you. But it's also mine for not stopping to think when I had my suspicions…she was different, the woman I thought was Marian hadn't felt like she _is_ Marian, but I ignored all the signs because I thought I lost you and I had to make it work. I was stupid, saying I choose you one second then turning my back on you the moment it mattered."

"You had Roland," she tells him understandingly. "You had a son to think about."

"Even so," he insists. "You should hate me, not accept me and take me back. I hurt you, you shouldn't give me a chance. I should just set you free and stop hurting you this way. You deserve better."

She shakes her head and pulls away to face him. He misses her warmth and feels empty without her in his arms.

"Don't you dare," she hisses at him, using her index finger to point at him with trembling fingers. "Don't you dare tell me that I deserve better and that you should just let me go." She seems to be so angry now that she actually climbs the bed and starts pacing the room. She'd wear out the masonry in no time, for sure. She looks at him with wild eyes. "I have lived for more than just three decades trying to decimate the woman I thought had ruined my happiness. I did that—chased after her in the enchanted forest, killing anyone and everyone who stood in my way, and I casted a curse because I thought it would end her happy ending and bring me mine. I religiously believed that revenge was my happy ending, that if I see her suffer, I could finally be happy. But it still felt wrong, I felt empty. Then Henry came along. When I first held my son, I thought this is it, I'm going to finally be happy, and I was, even if for a while I made some mistakes, but my son changed me, he brought light into my life that helped me see where I was wrong and helped set me right. He loved me enough to make me believe that I could do it."

He watches her in awe at this point, never ceasing to be amazed at her, amazed that despite everything that she went through, she still had so much room for love.

"But you, Robin," she says in a whisper as tears fell into her eyes. "You gave me my smile back, gave me back a piece of myself that I was so convinced I buried along with Daniel. You and Henry, you both believed in me and my capacity for change. I can't have you saying that I deserve better when I spent a lifetime not realizing that I was looking for you."

"But Regina—," he tries once more, only to be shut up by her glare.

"No," she says forcefully. "I'm not saying that everything is perfect, and I'm fine. You're right I'm not. I'm mad. So mad at this unfair card I've been dealt with. I'm so mad, furious, at my sister for what she did to you and what she did to us. I'm so mad for having my happy ending being stolen again and again away from me. I'm mad at myself for loving you, but I'm also mad at myself for being mad about that because you are one of the best things that ever happened to me. I'm mad at you, for continuously thinking that you aren't good enough for me, when it's me, it's my fault that you're even in this position."

She breathes.

"And I'm mad that you've just told me that you want to let me go, when I've been trying so hard to keep holding on."

He stands now too, and takes her in his arms, his heart breaking and the pieces leaking through his eyes. He holds her, holds her tight.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"I'm sorry too," she whispers. She seems thoughtful for a while before she speaks and in turn manages to break his heart all over again. "She's right, I'll never have with you what she has with you now."

He shakes his head, remembering her tell him of her condition, of how she can never bear children after she's taken a potion just to spite, thinking it'd hurt her mother, when it only served to hurt her more. She's never been bothered too much about it, she says, but he knows how painful it is for her now.

"It doesn't matter," he assures her, and truly it doesn't. "It doesn't make you any less of a mother or a woman. It's not your ability to bear my children that defines you. You are Regina Mills, and no matter how many cracks and faults you find in yourself, you are beautiful and perfect to me."

She looks up at him then, eyes watering and he moves to cup her cheeks.

"She'll always be the child's mother," Regina comments then and he wants to say, no, Zelena isn't, she is. But it won't do any good, would it? It's too soon. And it's a conversation for another day.

"I don't want her to be," he confesses, though he suspects that she already knows.

She nods. She knows. "We also have to tell Roland," she tells him and his heart swells with love for her even more. "He needs to understand this, and we have to explain it to him the best we can."

She's a mother, through and through.

"We can do this," he assures her, smiling sadly as he continues, "Together."

She nods.

"Together," she repeats.

 **Fin (12/6/15)**

* * *

 _ **A/n:** yeah, that happened. let me know what you think! :)_


	7. Jealous

_I have been asked by_ _ **InlovewithLana**_ _and_ _ **FluffyParrilla**_ _to write a jealous Regina fic and it's been so so so long but I haven't been able to post until now. Here it is, though, and I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

She is _not_ jealous.

No, she is not.

Regina Mills does not do jealous. And contrary to what everyone might believe or say, especially Emma Swan, she is _not_ jealous. Why would she be, anyway? She has not got anything to be jealous about.

Except it's always a well-placed hand on _her_ boyfriend's shoulder, a well-timed slip that has her boyfriend catching that woman, the perfect words sensually dropped from those perfectly pouted lips, and the perfect look from those _innocent_ eyes.

God.

When is she going to leave them alone?

This Marian person, who she's been told by Mary Margaret (Robin's cousin who is a twittering Disney princess come to life), is Robin's ex, his high-school sweetheart before he up and left the town of Storybrooke to study in New York, and have met Regina there, fell in love, and all that pizzazz. They had broken up long before Robin had gone to New York, nursing a broken heart just as Regina had, which she realizes now how and why they had clicked right away, despite the many, many times they had bantered and bickered. They had formed a friendship through their mutual heart break, and then that friendship turned into love.

A love she wants to protect at all costs now.

She has been assured and reassured many, many times by everyone that it is well and truly over for Marian and Robin, but somehow, she can't seem to see that—not when this simpering little doe eyed bitch keeps on coming on to her boyfriend, _her boyfriend._

It all feels rather high school, the possessive way in which she regards her boyfriend (and she realizes how many times she's said that, called Robin that, and the number of times she's called him that this week is far more than in their four year relationship put together), it feels young and juvenile that she should even entertain the thoughts of her being all like this, but she cannot help it.

It's that primal need to let everyone know, including perfect little Maid Marian, that Robin is off limits. It's that mere fact that she has so much to lose, so much pain to feel if she ever lost Robin. And maybe that's even a little irrational given the circumstances, he's brought her home for the holidays to finally meet his family. She's met his cousin before, Mary Margaret and her fiancé, when they had visited them over at New York. But Regina hasn't met Robin's mother and father, and has only done so now, this Christmas. She hasn't quite expected to be saddled with Robin's ex.

It doesn't sit well with her, this feeling, this need to possess anyone in their entirety, and to stake claims, it isn't her. She never had the need to, until now, and it's new and annoying, and so she tries to expel the feeling with other things.

She's tried to keep her mind off of it, had called their friend Emma all the way from New York to complain about this Marian girl, and had been told that she is just jealous, to which she had deftly responded that no she is not, and Emma Swan could just shove that idea up somewhere the sun doesn't shine. When ranting hadn't worked, she'd spent her days with Mary Margaret and some of the other girls in town, shopping or doing other things to occupy her time and thoughts when Robin is called upon by his father or some other uncle or friend. It doesn't work, either, she's soon realized, and it only has her wondering what the hell he's up to, if he is with Marian, because clearly whenever she is out and about town with the whole female population of Storybrooke under the age of 30, Marian isn't there.

So she expels the feelings with exertion, physical things, she runs. Despite the biting cold and the fact that she has to wear a hideous bomber jacket to fight it off, she runs. She runs through the forest, and it helps. A little. Exerting force and effort has always helped her clear her mind, and now is not any different. She has actually just caught Robin having a little chit chat with his wide-eyed ex, Marian's hand parked somewhere Robin's body, and Regina just couldn't help but be irritated by that, irritated by the mere fact that Robin doesn't seem to mind and there is a comfort and familiarity between them that seems to be so lost, or yet to be found, between herself and Robin.

Maybe that is it.

Marian knows about Robin more than she, knows about the Robin before _her_ Robin, and it doesn't sit well with her. It is rather unfair, she's the one to talk, Robin certainly isn't her first—there had been Daniel, but that is the operational word, **had** , there _had_ been Daniel, but now he's gone, lost to the world, resting in his grave.

God, what a bitter turn this thought had just taken.

She should stop.

It's rather petty and ridiculous and really, she's not a child, not a teenager with hormonal problems and she can live through a week of festivities with her boyfriend and his gorgeous ex hanging around together. And then she and Robin could go back to their life in Manhattan and she can forget about Marian's existence until the following year and they would have to go back to Robin's hometown for another week of the holidays.

Ugh.

That is not a comforting thought, is it?

She pauses in her run and breathes, huffing and puffing through her parted lips, as she bends over. She braces herself with her hands resting on her knees as she tries to keep her mind on track. She can't let herself get far too ahead, she'd lose her mind.

"You know, if something is bothering you, you could just tell me," she hears someone say from behind and she whips her head around only to find Robin standing behind her, arms crossed against his chest, a smirk on his lips.

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "How did—where did?" she tries to ask but her thoughts come out broken, and she whips her head around trying to look for the course or the path in which her dimpled, blue eyed man had come from.

"I spent many, many days of my childhood in this forests," he tells her smugly, and she wants to slap him silly, "I know this forest like the back of my hand, milady."

"Right," she says, nodding once, and remembering that she's still irritated at him for flirting with his ex. "Well, I'm going to get myself acquainted with the forest and leave you to be reacquainted with your ex." She spats the last words, and it makes the smug smirk disappear from his face as a look of concern replaces it.

Ha.

"Regina," he begins as he strides over to her, making her walk a step back. He wants to talk, and she can see that clearly in his blue eyes.

She is exhausted however, is in dire need of a shower, and it's getting late, the blue skies is not tinted with purple and orange hues as the sun sets in the horizon.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says, backing away further until the back of her leg hits a fallen log and she falls over the ground. Well, that's going to smart like a bitch. "Shit."

He runs over to her now and takes her hand in his, which she tries to pull away. "Are you okay?" he asks, concern marring his features. She'd melt if she isn't so annoyed.

"I'm fine," she snaps. "Go away and leave me alone. Go back to your ex."

"Regina," he says warningly, like he is talking to a petulant child, which is probably what she is being right now. Not that she cares. "I'm not—," he tries to say but she cuts him off.

"Ah, so you're going to tell me that you haven't been at all spending so much time with your ex therefore ignoring me and passing me over to every single one of your relative who might have spare time and is willing to entertain me for the day?" she all but explodes, and his eyes widen. Yes, Locksley, take that, because her jealousy issues are not at all unfounded, she thinks bitterly.

"Regina, that isn't at all-," he tries again, but she only cuts him off.

"So you haven't been spending time with her at all rather than with me?" she asks, tears gathering at her eyelashes. Wow, what a time to have those stupid fucking tears. She isn't about to cry over this. "All I wanted was to spend time with you this holiday season. With you and your family, because that is what you promised me before we left New York, but suddenly when your pretty, wide-eyed, model-esque ex comes to picture, I'm yesterday's news!" To her credit, she doesn't shriek the words.

He remains silent as he soaks up her words. Good for him.

"She's the one, isn't she?" she asks quietly now, as anger leaves her body, making room for defeat. "The one girl you told me before, a long time ago, when we were sophomores in Columbia, before we began dating—that girl you would gladly walk through hell for?"

Robin's silence is enough answer for her.

There is an anguished sob that erupts from her throat.

"Do you want her back?" she asks numbly, after a while of silence, and she doesn't even know how it got from petty jealousy to this.

Robin is silent, and she feels her heart being torn apart in shreds. He does, doesn't he? He wants Marian back.

"Regina—," he begins, but she shakes her head.

"Does she want you back?" she asks, even knowing the answer. Robin nods and she could feel the heaviness settle on her chest. "And she's told you?" Again, he nods. "And you? What did you say?"

She almost doesn't want to hear what he has to say. What is four years of relationship compared to a life time of love? She's always known that Robin has been in love with Marian since he was a child, up until that point that she broke his heart, maybe even until now.

She tries to get up. Maybe she should go home and pack her things now. She could still catch a flight out of Maine, and to New York. The more distance she puts between them the better.

"You have no reason to be jealous," he says quietly, and his words stop her cold. She lets out a bitter laugh. He tugs on her hand to settle her back down on his lap, straddling him, and what a sight they might have been, here in the middle of the forest, in the freezing coldness of December. "No, Regina, really, you have no reason to be jealous."

She snaps her head at him. "You mean her telling you that she wants you back is not enough reason?" she asks sarcastically. "Should I start getting jealous when you and her elope?"

He places a kiss against her forehead, on her cheeks, her nose, then her lips. "I mean, you don't have a reason," he says, pausing to kiss the crook of her neck, near her collarbone as he pulls her closer to him, "because I choose you."

"What?" she asks, pulling away a bit to look at him. His smile is blinding, the light and love in his eyes flowing.

"I choose you," he repeats, smiling wider when tears fall from her eyes. He reaches up and brushes it away with the pads of his thumb. "I always wanted to live a life of honor, and the most honorable thing to do is to follow my heart, to you. I choose you. I will always choose you. I told her that. Regina, I love you."

Her heart expands and explodes inside her chest, and she couldn't help but feel like floating, like all her dreams have come true, like she's somehow in a fairytale, and Robin is her prince. Only, he is no prince, and she is no princess, she is but a woman, and he is but a man. A man who had stolen her heart, the one that she's never thought capable of loving again after Daniel. But Robin had given her a second chance, a second chance she hopes she's given to him, too.

"I love you too, Robin," she whispers before she leans in and kisses him as the snow falls down around them.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** Let me know if you like my writing enough to write a story for you! :P


	8. In Perfect Harmony

**My sweet, little baby trash Amelie prompted me once upon a time. I'm here now to fulfill.**

 **Teen OQ because I'm trash for teen OQ.**

 _Thanks Geli for the beta._

* * *

The candlelight bathes the room in its orange glow, making shadows dance as the fames flicker. Regina eyes the bed before with trepidation, anxiety creeping up on her nerves. There are flowers scattered all over the room, and it's beautiful, really beautiful, even as her heart trip hammered in her chest.

She has agreed to this, has actually been the one to suggest it to him, but she feels her courage beginning to waver (not that she has a lot to begin with), and feels her stomach doing somersaults, and she's not sure that this is a good idea after all.

But she wants this, she tells herself. And this is the right decision, the best decision a seventeen year old like herself could make, anyway. And besides, it's _him_ , she can never really make a wrong decision if she's with him.

She feels a hand snake around her waist, and she turns, finding his blue eyes looking at her strangely. There's that usual twinkle in them, and when caught by the flickering lights, it's even more beautiful.

He is beautiful.

And tonight, he is hers.

"Well, okay, so how do you want to do this?" he asks, and that's an awkward question, he knows it too, because he scratches the back of his neck, biting down on his lip as he gives her a sheepish smile.

"Well, the usual way everyone does it," she says then, dryly, earning a laugh from him.

He pulls her closer to him and her breath hitches, her heart now pumping harder inside her and she thinks she might pass out when he leans down and captures her lips in a soft kiss. It's the first time he's kissed her, and it is everything that she's imagined it to be, soft and gentle, sweet, romantic. It's everything she's dreamed out.

It's something new yet so familiar, cozy even. It's like sipping her favorite wine, or slipping on her most comfortable pajamas, it's something she knows by heart and loves, even when she hasn't had it for a very long time.

He tastes of something sweet and minty, something that she cannot place or describe, but she likes it. She likes it even more when he pulls her closer and deepens their kiss, swiping his tongue against the seams of her lips, prompting her to moan and open her mouth. He slides his tongue in easily, without hesitation, and she breathes in just a little deeper, wanting to open her eyes so she can see his face but doesn't dare, cannot dare.

She's just a little afraid that he might be gone and this is just a dream that she'll be ripped from unceremoniously and quite cruelly.

Her thoughts flutter away from her thoughts then when she feels his hand soothe up and down her back, and then slowly inching to the front where he cups her breasts in his hand. He then slowly lowers his hand, tugs her shirt up and peals it away from her body, dropping it haphazardly on the carpeted floor.

Somehow, no matter how wrong this seems, it does feel right.

He pulls away a little and stares at her, and she looks back at him and fidgets, wondering what could possibly be in his mind, as he looks at her that way. His nose flares and his pupils dilate, before he licks her lips and ducks down to place soft kisses against her neck. She tilts her head just so, to give him ample access.

"Beautiful," he breathes against her skin, "You're beautiful."

She closes her eyes once more, wishing she could believe it.

 **…**

It is her idea.

Robin wouldn't say it's the best idea she's had, but he definitely doesn't back away, and he can't if he wanted to. She has offered herself to him, to worship and to love, to cherish and to pleasure, and he'd be a right blooming asshole if he even rejects her.

The fact that they are best friends, of course doesn't escape his thoughts. He's considered it so much, thought over it so many times he has given himself a headache over it. He's thought of the ramifications, thought of the consequences of their actions. What if he loses her? He cannot stand that.

He cannot lose her.

But she had come to him, one day, telling him without preamble that she wants for him to make love to her, regardless of their relationship status, or the lack thereof, and wants him to ease her in to the art of love making, so to speak.

He himself hadn't had much experience at that point, but it is still so much more than hers, because the only man she's ever dated had turned up to be an asshole and there had been no way in hell she could have given herself to him. She had looked at him pleadingly, wide eyed and with a slight pout in her lips that it had been so hard to reject her.

And it isn't as though he isn't madly in love with her, has always been since he's moved onto the neighborhood and saw her for the first time. He had tried to confess his feelings to her so many times, but his fear of losing her should he act on his feelings and she ends up not feeling the same way had always been what made him not to.

Now though, as he kisses her naked breasts softly, nipping at her fragrant flesh and licking against her delicious skin, he doesn't mind that she might not feel the same. He loves her, and he's going to show her, everything else be damned.

He's been in love with her for years, and tonight, tonight she is finally, finally his.

 **…**

Regina feels the tears sting her eyes as Robin kisses her breasts, sucking at the pebbled peaks. He licks and nips at her flesh, and she moans loudly, her legs wrapping around his waist. She feels him press hi weight down on her body, feels the moment their bodies connect even through layers of clothing, and she gasps out. The feeling of his long, hard shaft against her slippery, hot core makes her tremble.

She lifts her hand and cards her fingers through his hair, mindless of what she's doing, only knowing that she needs to touch, needs to touch him, as he moves down her stomach, kisses just below her navel and undoes the clasp of her jeans, easing it down her hips and throwing it behind him carelessly. It lands with a soft thud against the carpeted floor, and mercifully, it doesn't really hit any of the candles.

He kisses her lace covered sex first, before he peels her panties away and throws it behind him once again. He's much too clothed, is her first thought, for he is still wearing his shirt and his jeans while she is lying naked, exposed before him.

She doesn't get the chance to voice out her teeny tiny bit of complain however, because suddenly his tongue is on her, licking against her tightened bundle of nerves. He flattens his tongue and licks along her folds, all over her sex, and it feels good, it feels so, so good and leaves her no room for embarrassment over how wet she already is.

Whether or not she admits it to him, she has been in love with him for years, perhaps even from the first time she's seen her when they'd moved in the neighborhood. She hasn't told him how she feels, afraid that he doesn't feel the same way, and had been content to just be by his side as his best friend. Over the years, she's tried to date, had dated one boy who had turned out to be an asshole and had even admitted that he'd only dated her for sex, had not realized she's such a prude.

But she isn't a prude, and though that blow had hurt, she's glad it's over, because at least, she's giving her first time to the man she actually loves, to Robin, even if this is actually a less than an amorous circumstance (the sex notwithstanding).

She feels him shift a bit, moving his a little to change his angle, and then she feels his fingers teasing her, sliding over her slit before he pushes inside her core, and it makes her gasp, has her moaning and panting in his arms. It's both pain and pleasure, and she lies still, trying to wait which feeling wins out in the end.

He is gentle and caring, sensitive about every shift in her movements, and so when he feels her tense, he looks up at her in silent question. She only nods, waits for his next move.

Pleasure, she decides, wins out in the end, for he now has two fingers inside her, his tongue flicking and licking against her slippery, warm flesh, and he has her mewling and moaning, gasping out his name as heat washes over her. She isn't entirely sure what this is, but she feels something in her core, a tingling, and maybe this it is, maybe she's close, she doesn't know, all she knows is that she's spiraling, up, up, and up, until she's barely able to breathe from the feeling inside her, and then she just explodes, panting, his name falling upon her lips.

 **…**

She is beautiful, so goddamn beautiful, especially when she comes. She's flushed and she's gasping, heaving for breaths as she soars, and he loves it, loves that he's the one who can make her feel this way. He thrusts his fingers inside her more, curls them, and milks out the last of her first orgasm ever. He wants to be inside her now, wants to feel him around his length, wants to fill her and make love to her until she's sated.

But he restrains himself for the time being, waiting for her go signal. Instead, he kisses her soft skin, just below her navel, all over her stomach. When he feels her tug against his hair, he looks up and smiles at her, one that returns and makes his heart flutter.

God, she is beautiful.

She asks him to come up softly, and when he acquiesces, she lowers his head and kisses him silly. She slips her tongue past his lips and coaxes his to play. She explores, and he lets her, enjoying the feel of her roving hands and her demanding tongue.

"I need you inside me," she whispers when she pulls away and he's about to ask her if she's sure, but she nods before he can say a word and wraps her legs around his waist, making his length bump against her clit, which elicits a moan from them both.

He wastes no time, pushes inside her with purpose but with gentleness he is surprised with. But this is Regina, the woman of his dreams, and he's not about to fuck it up or do something that could hurt her. He thrusts his hips against hers when she's finally adjusted, and he sees the pain in her eyes but she forges on, gives him a nod when she's caught her breath.

He moves then, shows her how much he really does love her even without the words, and here, right here, he feels like the luckiest man alive.

 **…**

He makes love to her all through the night, and though Regina could not quite work up the courage to tell him how she really feels, she feels like there are no need for any more words. He's here and he has just given her the best first time she could ever dream of. She hopes for the words, but really, she could do without them, for she already knows that he really does love her, in his own way, whichever way it might be.

And she lays on top of him, head against his shoulder, nose against his neck, and chest over his, she hears, she feels and she knows that their heart are beating in perfect harmony.

 **Fin (2/20/16)**

* * *

 **A/N:** **Got a prompt? Let me know! and let me know what you think of this trash! :D**


	9. Dark Robin

**Hi! So about 84 years ago, Mo9Ja gave me a prompt which was from Sean answering a question about a Dark robin (there is a clip here:** /watch?vIabByEG4jNY), **and this kind of happened.**

 **This is smut.**

 **This is smut to nth degree, definitely one of the dirtiest I've ever written, and that is saying something after LPAG and many other dirty one shots. It was so dirty for me that I contemplated not posting it, but my friend Miles said "EVERYBODY NEEDS SOME DIRTY SMUT IN THEIR LIVES" so here we are.**

 _Many many many thanks to Shannon for that incredible live stream for this story, and to Miles for being such an awesome beta-reader! I'm sorry I made you blush, Miles,_ _ **not.**_ _HAHA_

 ** _Mo9Ja, I hope you and your friend like this! let me know! :)_**

 _On we go._

* * *

Her mother was wrong.

Love wasn't weakness.

But it was a curse. Or at least, Regina figured that loving her was a curse-it had been for Daniel, and now it is for Robin.

After all, it was for her that he became the dark one-to save her from death, to save her from the darkness. He had risked his own life, running forth and grabbing the dagger from a shocked Emma and taking the darkness for himself-all for her. And she felt her heart swell three times its size with love for him, but still she would have rather that he didn't become the dark one. She wasn't worth it.

Though, obviously she was more than worth it for him.

Only now, she wondered if she really had a shot at a happy ending, or if she was just losing this battle and she's destroying everyone else's in the process.

Once again, happy endings failed her and it was taken from her, and though she lost no hope that they could make this right (Robin, after all, was a hero and she was also surrounded by a bunch of goodie-two shoes who she believed to have made a deal with fate and some hope commission)-every day brought no result and no answer despite all of their efforts. She was getting more and more frustrated.

She sat now on top of her old chest, pouring over book after book, trying to find a solution to bring back her soul mate to his normal old self sans darkness. She missed him, missed every part of him, and wished he would at least show himself to her. He had, but only once and only to her, responding to her summons, and he had said that it was only to reassure her that he was still alive and that he believed that she could find a way to bring him back to _just_ _Robin_.

She had been surprised at his appearance, his blonde hair had gone a lot blonder, his skin a lot paler and the playful glint in his eyes now gone, replaced by something else-somewhere between devious and desperate. Yet, he was still the same, his skin though unfamiliar felt the same and his touch, though with a touch of possessiveness still was gentle.

She missed that skin on her, missed his _touch_.

She missed the way he would kiss all over her body, touch every patch of skin with his soft lips and have her panting and writhing under his touch, wanting nothing more than to have his shaft inside her wanting and wet cunt.

She took the dagger and stared at it for a while, thinking of summoning him for very selfish reasons-like holding him and touching him, kissing him, making love to him, dangers and darkness be damned.

She shook her head, telling herself that she shouldn't think this way, shouldn't think of wanting her boyfriend turned dark one to fuck her in this very vault where they made love for the first time when she had to think of a way to bring him back to her.

It was selfish, but god, she was already _so_ wet thinking about it.

Her fingers clenched around the handle while she debated whether or not she should just go ahead and call for him, have her take her, right here in every way, it's not like he could refuse, he hadn't ever been able to deny her and now since he's the dark one, a touch of selfishness would reside in his heart and he would take her, make her his in _every_ way, which was exactly what she wanted.

The Regina Mills and the Evil Queen waged a war against each other inside her and she wondered which would win out. Regina Mills said it was entirely too selfish to use her boyfriend this way, no matter how much she missed him, but the Evil Queen (the carnal, lusty, hot-blooded Evil Queen) wanted nothing more than to fuck her boyfriend, who coincidentally was the dark one.

She reasoned with herself, but she was weak and she was human and she missed the man she loved-so in the end, she ruled out the Regina Mills for a while and let the Evil Queen to come out and play. She held the dagger tighter and brought it to eye-level, heart pounding in her chest the whole time, a dangerous smirk lifting the corners of her lips.

"Dark one, I summon thee," she whispered, voice raspy with the anticipation. She licked her lips and counted silently up to three, waiting, brows furrowing when Dark Robin failed to show. She bit down on her lip and looked at the dagger, "Robin, please, I need you."

A cloud of dark blue smoke started to appear, and before her, Dark Robin coming to view with a smirk on his face. He was looking at her with a raised eyebrow as he moved closer to her, bridging the distance between them in a few strides.

Regina felt her knees tremble at the sight of him before her, her lower stomach clenching from the lust that was growing inside her. She looked up at him with lowered lashes, smiling at him coyly. By the look on his face, he wasn't about to hold this against her, and that he missed her just as much.

"Robin," she purred as he took her by the arm and lifted her up, making her stand. He pulled her close to him, pressing against the hard planes of his body, every contour of their bodies molding against each other perfectly. "So the Dark One finally decided to show."

"I see the Evil Queen has come to play too," he teased back, smirking at her and squeezing her arm gently to let her know that he knew what this was about, and the Evil Queen was nothing more than a name from her past, though she was sure to be using it now. He pushed his torso closer to her pelvis and she felt his hardness poking her. "Good, we can be evil together."

"I see someone else wants to join in on the fun too," she commented with a raised eyebrow, making him chuckle darkly. She looked at him now, fully, holding nothing back and dropping the act for a few moments to enjoy being here with him. She touched her fingertips to his cheek and smiled sadly, tears pricking her eyes. "I missed you, Robin."

"And I, you," he said, touching his lips to her, _finally_.

She breathed him in, savoring the feel of his arms enclosing her in an embrace. Her arms went to wrap around his neck as his roamed around her body, pulling her closer and mapping out every part, every curve.

She felt him cup her ass and she gasped, enjoying the feeling. And then he's sliding his hand inside her dress, inching up the hem as he went, until his hand reached where she was drenched with want for him. She moaned when he ran his finger down her sex, using his thumb to press down her sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I see you've missed me quite a lot," he said with a smirk. Their teasing was back on full force, and she lifted her leg, wrapping it around his hips to give him better access, making him hum when her arousal coated his fingers. God, he hadn't even done much.

"I have," she answered with a nod. And then there were no more words as he growled and took her lips in a bruising kiss. She felt the need, felt the desire, the possession, as he bit down on her bottom lip before running his tongue at the seams, slipping it in when she opened her mouth with a moan.

His fingers started flicking against her clit, his other hand coming up to unzip her dress. He only moved a little to let it slither down her body and down the floor, his hand inching up her cup her bare breasts (thank god for the cupped bust that allowed no room for a bra). He pinched her dusky nipples, eliciting a long hard moan from her, and making a shiver run down her, the sharp feeling of arousal shooting down her clit.

He was still much clothed though, and that was unfair, so she moved her hand to pull the shirt he wore over his head. He broke their kiss long enough to allow her to do that, but when she reached down to unclasp and undo his jeans, he took a step back and shook his head.

For a moment she wondered if he was about to fuck her as Robin or the dark one. She would be satisfied, either way, but there was something enticing about him fucking her as the dark one.

He seemed to read her thoughts.

"Uh-uh, no," he said, lifting his hand and closing her eyes tightly, seemingly trying to think hard. She was about to ask him what he was doing when something wrapped around her wrist, bounding her. She looked up at him in surprised, arousal hitting her harder. He smirked at her. "You're not allowed to touch." He paused and looked at her with dangerous eyes, smirk growing wider. "Or make a sound."

She wanted to protest, but really, this was too hot, so she made a half-hearted attempt at freeing herself, to which Robin only raises an eyebrow at, hand splaying over her breast as he flicked her nipple with his thumb. But then there was a pause, and he bit his lip, looked at her with concern.

"You okay being bound?" He asked, and it made her heart melt, hope surging through her, because despite the darkness, he's still very much the same man. She smiled and nodded, reassuring him. This wasn't a form of domination anyway, just him teasing her to the point of feverish arousal. "Good." He went back to fondling her breast then, looking down at her, though he must know how much she wanted him to kiss her. "You have to follow me, or it comes with a price." He waggled his eyebrows and she fought the urge to laugh.

He led her over to her chest and ordered her to sit which she followed without a word.

"Now, be a good girl and undo my trousers, and not a word from you, Regina," he told her, and she nodded. With trembling hands she reached up to undo the button of his trousers before unzipping it and letting it fall to the ground. She watched as he stepped out of it, licking her lips. She reached up to ease his boxers down, but he flicked her hand away. "Did I say to take my boxers off?" She shook her head. "Right I didn't. Listen to me and do as I say." She nodded mutely. "Raise your hands up, I want to taste your breasts."

She did as he told her, raising her arms up over her head, and closing her eyes when his warm hands came to cup her breasts. His fingers pinched her puckered nipples, making her bite down on her lip when it shot pleasure right to her core. Good god. Then his mouth was on her, sucking, biting, licking and nipping at her tits, while one of his hand palmed the neglected one. He licked and sucked, then moved to the other one. Her nipples were pleasantly aching when he let it go with a pop.

"Take off your panties." She did just that, pushing her panties down her hips and shimmying out of it. "Remove my boxers and then get on your knees and lick my cock."

She got on her knees and breathed in deeply-this was what she wanted, she wanted him, wanted him to take her in any way that he wanted, wanted him to make her belong to him knowing that this kind of possession was a two-way road. She moved a little closer, tongue darting out to lick against the satiny, fat head. The size and length of him had surprised the bejesus out of her the first time, but he'd been gentle, had helped work through her trepidations.

She loved it, though, loved how big and long and thick he was because it meant that he touched every part of her, filled her so completely.

She smiled at the thought, womb tightening in anticipation, before she ran her tongue over the length of him and placed soft kisses against the head, which she knew was against his commands, but she also knew how much he loved that. He hummed a pleased moan as his fingers weaved through her hair, urging her without words to take him in her mouth, suck him hard and deep in her throat. She obliged, loving the feel of him in her mouth, parting her lips and opening wide, sucking him in hard, sucking him deep until the head of him was hitting the back of her throat and he was throwing his head back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, murmuring incoherently. She smiled around his shaft, working to get him deeper, suck him harder.

He cupped her head though, to still her, and she looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"I need a moment," he rasps out, his voice coming out hoarse, "Or I'm going to fuck your face and cum in your mouth."

It was a surprise to hear him talk like that, though, of course he's talked dirty to her before, often had upon her request or when he was in the brink of ecstasy and forgets himself, it had never been quite like this, he often had more finesse in his words. But this wild side of him that emerged now-well she liked it, top.

She lets up from where she's softly sucking the head of his cock and looked at him with wide pleading eyes, "Fuck my mouth, Robin, please," she said, tongue darting out once more to lick the underside of his shaft.

His hand tightened their hold on her head, fingers fisting against a bunch of her hair, before he was growling and pressing the head of his cock to her lips. She took him in, feeling herself dampen even more with the prospect. She opened her mouth wide and then he's sliding in, her wet mouth closing in around him. His hand stilled her head and she looked up at him with a fuck me look and then he was moving inside her, cock pumping and sliding in and out of her mouth in rapid strokes. It's never forceful or far enough to make her gag, but it was hot enough that she felt her pussy dilating, in need of stimulation, her arousal reaching new levels.

She sank her nails to the cheeks of his ass and pulled him closer, wanting him fill her mouth more, enjoying the hard way that he was taking her right now. She wanted him to come, wanted him to lose himself and spurt inside her mouth, and she was almost sure that he could already feel the tingling and tightening of his balls signalling that he was coming, and she waited, anticipation tightening her nipples. But he pulled away, taking his cock out of her mouth and then reaching down to grasp it and slap it lightly against her lips. She looked at him in question.

"The only way I'm coming is buried balls deep inside of you, bathing your womb with my seeds," he told her sternly before he was pulling her up and lifting her deftly, depositing her to her wooden chest once more. And then he was the one kneeling in front of her, spreading her legs so far apart, she was almost on a split.

He buried his face in her sex, inhaling her scent and nuzzling his nose against her clit, making her wetter, and good god she wanted more, wanted him to devour her and lick every single drop of her arousal. She was about to voice her request (she could not pull at his hair, her bound wrist leaving her hands useless at the moment), but she hadn't needed to, because he was on her less than a second later, mouth sucking against her labia, and then tongue flicking against her clit, lapping and nibbling, biting and nipping until she's sure she was about to melt. Her knees buckled and her hips bucked, but he growled and held her steady, his two hands coming down to pin her legs further apart. He worked his mouth on her, the sound of him slurping and sucking on her flesh loud and healthy in the silence of the vault.

When he bit down and then sucked on her clit, she had been unable to stop the scream that ripped from her throat, and she threw her head back, allowing him to pull her further, closer to his mouth where he proceeded to eat her out to his heart's content.

"You taste so good," he murmured against her aroused flesh, making her thrust her hips upward, "And you're all mine."

She couldn't do anything but nod, unable to so much as speak or move as her orgasm ripped through her so hard, the screams that left her mouth were accompanied by a violent shudder. She looked at him, saw him smiling softly at her as he caressed her cheek, and then her wrists were set free and he turned her to all fours, positioning himself behind her. He braced her hands against the wooden chest, bending her over and he folded himself over her. With one swift movement, he pushed into her, her slickness making it so much easier for him.

"Good god, Regina, you feel so good," he muttered, one hand gripping her waist, while the other stole up to fondle her breasts, flicking and pinching against her nipple. He molded against her form, the head of his cock bumping against her womb from how deep he was buried inside her. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you pass out from pleasure, so hard you forget your own name, just like you had wanted me to when you used that dagger to summon me," he told her, every sentence ending accompanied by sharp driving of his cock into her greedy, wanting, wet cunt.

"Please, Robin," she begged, his command of not making a sound all but forgotten now.

He bit down on her shoulder, wrapping his hand that gripped her waist around her so he could play with her oversensitive clit. She felt euphoric as he pounded into her, his warmth all encompassing now, and their breaths both coming out as sharp gasps from the exertion and sheer pleasure of their coupling. His cock was a hard rod pumping into her with little mercy, blurring the boundaries between pleasure and pain, making her moan and groan, mewl and growl. His fingers played with her bundle of nerves, both her clit and her nipple, and she was so sure that nothing so dirty ever felt this good, but this did, _does_ , and she could have sworn she saw stars when she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

She could literally feel her eyeballs rolls to the back of her head. Her mouth was open and her fingers clenched where they were bracing her body against the wooden chest. She was bucking up against him, hips thrusting against his in perfect rhythm.

"Oh fuck, you feel so good," she managed to let out though it came out in a broken words. He hummed and pulled his hand from her nipple to be able to grab her hair and pull her head back lightly to suck kisses on the soft flesh of her neck.

 _Fuck_.

That was _so_ hot.

"You feel great," he said back, nipping at her flesh, "You're so tight, so hot, so wet. God, I want to spend the rest of my life inside you, fucking you."

She tilted her head just enough to be able to ask for a kiss, which he granted, slipping his tongue inside her mouth without preamble and moving his hand back to her breast once more. She could feel it then, the beginning of an incredible orgasm, one that she had gotten when he pinched her clit and nipple while he drove into her-the triple stimulation causing her to shatter and come so hard around him. Behind her, Robin continued to pump mercilessly, her over-sentisized nub throbbing painfully but he didn't slow down, instead he pinched it greedily, sucked on that spot behind her ear that made her quiver and Regina came alive in his arms again, thrusting back onto his cock as wave after wave of pleasure went through her body. He was close too, she could tell by the way he pumped into her in sloppy, hard and fast strokes. But she needed more _now_ , needed to come, and come and come around him, needed him, needed _more, please, Robin, more, harder, I'm coming again, please._

"Come with me," he breathed into her ear, making her whimper, thighs tremble and her orgasm ripped through her more violently this time, making her shudder as her cunt milked him again and again, hips trashing, hands stretched forward as she mewled and took shaky breaths. Then one, two, three rolls of her hips later and he came, too, her name falling from his lips as his hands gripped her hips to hold her in place

Later, when they both calmed down, and she sat on his lap while he sat on the wooden chest, his arms enveloping her and his hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly (he had kissed her wrists repeatedly while she calmed down too), she nuzzled her nose against the skin on his neck, her hand splayed over the patch of skin where his heart was beating loud and clear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He shot her a confused look and she continued, "I used the dagger to summon you for selfish reasons."

He sighed and kissed her softly, "Regina," he murmured, his lips landing on her brow, "Don't you feel bad about that. It was not selfish. It might look like it, but it really isn't. You and I...we love each other," And where she had felt panic before and trepidation when talking of her love for him and his love for her, she found comfort in it now-they loved each other and they were going to get through it, together, "And we use many ways of expressing that. We also have needs, and if we feel it, then we have each other to call on. Summoning me for a fantastic love making isn't so selfish, especially since I had planned to come here and make love to you anyway."

"You have?" She asked, surprised.

He nodded. "I was going insane. I needed to have you, and I would have come to you even if you hadn't used the dagger." He paused, kissed her hard and passionate on her mouth, before he peppered kisses all over her face, ending on her hairline and burying his nose to the crown of her head. "I missed you so much, Regina. Every single part of you, I missed." He held her tighter. "I love you."

Her eyes were glassy with tears when she pulled away enough to look at him. "I love you, too," she whispered and it isn't the first time she'd said it (she told him when he showed up and reassured her that he was okay), but the novelty never expires. She kissed him this time and cupped his cheeks, staring deep into his eyes, "And I promise we'll make it through."

"Together," he said though it was more a plea than a statement.

She wrapped him in an embrace, comforting him the way he has always done for her, "Together," she promised.

* * *

 **A/N2: If you lot would tell me how that went so I could stop myself from hiding under a rock forever (or if you think that I should, tbh), that would be swell.**

 **And if you want me to fill out a prompt for you lot, all you have to do is ask! :)**


	10. Gotta Catch Em All

**So I found a prompt on tumblr and ran with it. This is a bit out there, so you know, bear with me! Hope you like it!**

 **Thanks Milesus for beta-reading.**

 **Let me know what you think.**

* * *

It's her eldest son's fault.

Really, there is no one else to blame but Henry. Henry who had been so eager to teach Robin Hood the ways of the modern world, the world without magic, the world with little technologies that boggle his mind and make him wonder and marvel at the same time.

At first it had been a good thing, it had been so heart warming to see her two men bond over the things she has neither patience nor time to teach her lover. It had been great to see the excitement in both their eyes as they taught each other in turns (Robin teaches Henry the proper use of a bow and arrow, Henry teaches Robin the proper use of a microwave and so on). She'd loved to let them spend time tinkering away with little gadgets, and some weapons—those she's allowed Henry to be anywhere near to, while she spends time making cookies and brownies with the other boy she's come to love as her son, the boy she introduces to everyone as _hers_ (because he is, him calling her _mom_ or _mommy_ cements that fact). It's also saved her so much time in trying to explain to Robin how certain things work because most of the time, Henry does the explaining for her.

Only, she's not anticipated _this_ turn, and now it's annoying more than endearing.

She hadn't seen the harm in it at first, when her son had introduced her partner to the world of _Pokemon_. She's not been lured to it before, never saw the point to it, much to her son's disappointment—so she'd stuck to comics and marvel and superheroes (though she hadn't exactly been very warm to it at first, too, past experiences and bitterness and all that).

But...

But Robin had been as immersed in it as Henry is, and Henry suddenly had found his best friend in Robin. Often, she'd catch her boys and her man watching reruns of episodes of the cartoon, with Roland hilariously jumping from the couch and yelling _'Gotta catch 'em all!_ ' whenever appropriate. And then Henry's also taught both Robin and Roland to the world of trading cards and other merchandise and soon it had seemed as though _Pokemon_ had suddenly become a part of their family.

Blasted, stupid _Pokemon_.

Of course, she tries not to begrudge any of them over something they enjoy. She collects designer shoes, so she cannot really judge. So she lets them be, lets them enjoy playing and watching that stupid thing and leaves them to it.

But holy hell, _Pokemon Go_ happened, and suddenly it feels like her life has been turned on its axis.

Suddenly, she's getting dragged outside of her house just so her sons can catch a _pokemon_ in the park. And where she's thought her partner to be responsible, ie., not letting their children get out of the house till late on a school night—he fails, is actually the one to instigate.

And what had started out as harmless fun became something that annoyed the hell out of her.

"You can't let them waste time collecting _pokemons_ on their gadgets when they should be doing homework or studying, Robin," she'd scolded him one day when she'd come home to an empty house the third night in a row.

When her men had arrived, she'd managed to start laundry and finish cooking dinner, and they had all been puffing, out of breath, and flushed, as though they had been running. And they have been running, because they had not wanted to be caught out again, but Regina had beaten them home and she'd only raised an eyebrow at them before turning away from them, only beckoning Roland and telling him to wash up for dinner.

Robin had gotten an earful from her, however. They'd been getting ready for bed, and Regina is sat in front of her vanity table, applying night cream (age-defying, of course, but she'd tell no one that—to everyone else, it's a healthy diet and juice cleanse that makes her look youthful). She stops for a moment to stare at him through the mirror.

"I'm sorry, milady," he'd told her, looking up from his phone and for a moment, Regina has a flash of image where she throws his phone across the wall and watches it shatter into smithereens.

God, what satisfaction that would bring her.

Her thoughts are halted when Robin starts speaking again, saying, "They both have finished their homework and we were thinking of something to do, and well, the kids thought it'd be great to have a walk in the park..." and he trails off from there, making Regina snorts.

"It just so happens that there are a lot of _pokemon_ in the park, yeah?" She asks sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him when she turns around to face him again. But he doesn't answer, is currently immersed in his phone to even notice her presence.

Regina sighs and crawls onto the bed to grab his phone from his hand and maybe give into her more violent ideas and really just throw that damn phone across the wall. As she crawls up the bed, however, she notices how Robin's eyes widened and he starts to pan the phone up, its camera directly pointed at her.

She wonders for a moment what he's doing and is about to ask him, moving once more, when he suddenly says, "No, stop don't move!" His voice is loud and eager, enthused, that it makes Regina jump, and look at him in annoyance.

"Whatever the fuck are you doing, Robin Locksley?" She asks, screeching, as she sees him point his smart phone right into her chest. "Are you taking a picture of my chest?"

He looks up at her briefly, confused. "What?" He asks. "No! What? I—there's a dragonite right above your tits, let me just catch it!"

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen. The cheek of this man! She feels her temper boil and she wants to slug him, but mostly, it's become hysterical (it won't be tomorrow, when she finds their home empty once more because they've been catching _pokemons_ again in the park) how he's so addicted to it.

And to think, he'd initially thought that technology is another form of witchcraft!

She smirks saucily at him, "You know, you can find more if you just put your phone down and actually pay attention to my tits," she tells him, chuckling when he hastily puts his phone down and tackles her on the bed with his arduous kisses. He kisses her mouth and plunges his tongue inside when she opens it wide.

He kisses her until she's breathless, and she kisses back until thoughts of _Pokemon Go_ are well and truly gone from his mind. She has one last bit of warning though when they manage to pull away long enough.

"I better not catch you catching any _pokemon_ on other women's tits, Robin Locksley, or I swear to God, you're a dead man," she says, playfully, though with a hard look in her eyes.

He chuckles, the warm sound making her warmer in a place down south. "No worries, my darling, the only good ones are found in yours," he teases back, making her chuckle before pulling him into another breathtaking kiss.

 **Fin**

* * *

 **Prompt:** _Imagine one half of your OTP playing Pokemon Go and finding one right at the other half's chest or dick, and them asking the other not to move until they caught the pokemon._

 ** _Let me know if you want me to write something for you! Leave a prompt on the review section! Thanks for reading._**


	11. Rough Waters

**Hi so, this is a sequel for** ** _In Perfect Harmony_** **(OS #8), and I thought I'd post. Better read OS # 8 before reading this for reference :) Enjoy darlings.**

 _This is is_ _ **Teen OQ**_

 _Unbeta-ed._

* * *

It isn't supposed to happen this way. No, nothing is ever supposed to happen this way.

Regina Mills' life is supposed to follow a plan, right down to the letter. A plan laid out for her by her mother, and there is nothing, nothing, that should ever come in the way of that. If her mother finds out that there is something that could impede the future she's written out and planned so carefully for Regina, she will not only have a conniption fit (that is the last of the reactions that Regina anticipates), Cora Mills will make sure to delete, destroy, decimate that little hiccup on her way.

And that is exactly what Regina is scared of.

Of course, she realizes how this is all her fault, she'd been careless, they both had been, and where they could have prevented this, they had failed to do so. And now, they reap the consequences of their own actions.

Speaking of which...

She still has to tell _him_.

And she isn't entirely sure how she's going to do that, considering. She isn't really sure how to break this particular news when she isn't really sure what they are to each other, isn't entirely sure where she stands with him. They aren't in love-at least she's certain he isn't in love with her, aren't yet or will ever be anything more than what they are now, and now she's not even sure what to do.

She does know she has to tell him before she tells her own mother, knows he needs to know and be in on the decision before it is going to be made, before they are going to be steamrolled into one by her mother, but he deserves to know, still.

She just doesn't know how to tell him. The person she tells everything to, the person she is pretty sure she's in love with, and she can't tell him this, hell she cannot even tell him what she feels...god, she's screwed.

She was, is, anyhow, which is exactly why she is in this predicament.

 **...**

Robin is in a predicament.

Well, not so much as he's confused about a situation and he isn't entirely sure how to handle it, isn't entirely sure about said situation.

He's noticed something different. He doesn't know exactly what it is but he knows something is wrong. He's asked her, but she won't say, and it frustrates him to no end because it makes him feel inadequate, makes him feel useless and unable to be anything helpful to her.

Of course, he realizes that it is Regina and she never, ever, asks for help from anyone. She is as independent and as stubborn as they come, but they had, have, something, something intimate, and he thinks that it at least merits knowing if something is wrong with her. He also realizes that he's been coward and if he'd only just secured his place in her life, had told her exactly what he feels about her, had put a label to what is going on with them, he'd have the right to ask and to know what is going on wit her. Rather than this, where he just stands in the sideline and wonders.

But that is neither here nor there with regards to the situation at hand-which is that she's been poorly for a few weeks now, has been looking like death woke her up that morning and warmed her over. There is pallor where she used to glow and there are bags under her eyes though she tries to hide it.

And though, this he can totally live with, it is still a wonder to him that she's been pulling away from him so much lately, hadn't so much as let him see her after school hours. He knows that she's busy, it is senior year after all (he's busy and he doesn't study half as hard as her or have a mother half as hard ass as hers). But she used to make time, used to meet him after school even if it's just for a few minutes, just to eat ice cream before he walks her home, even if it isn't to do some more time consuming activities, that has them locking the door to his bedroom, has them naked and sweaty and satisfied by the end of said activities.

His mind wanders a little bit, sends him right off to the activities he has been missing the past few weeks (doesn't matter if he's sitting in the cafeteria with their friends, supposedly having lunch-to which Regina is surreptitiously absent once more). They aren't dating, not really, even though he isn't seeing anyone, and neither does she, but they had been making love frequently (he refuses to think of it as anything less, it isn't just sex, something so beautiful cannot be described in one word as paltry as that), treating each other as more than friends behind his bedroom doors.

He remembers with vivid clarity every single delicious, beautiful part of her, right down to the beauty mark just below her left breast that she hates so much, though he thinks it's sexy. He remembers the way she would look at him in askance as she slides him inside her mouth, sucking him better than anyone who has done it before (not that there is a long list, mind you, but it is still more than hers). He remembers how she writhes under him when he thrusts inside her slowly, letting her feel exactly how he can fill her up, completely, perfectly like two pieces of a very, very erotic puzzle. He remembers the way her eyes would fall shut, brows furrowing, as he thrusts erratically, and she tumbles over, his name falling from her lips.

He remembers, and it seems that it is all he will be doing because she seems very intent to avoid him at all costs, going as far as forgoing lunch just so they won't have to see each other. He doesn't understand it, wonders why she's being like this and he entertains the idea that she might be dating someone else now, had found someone else, she certainly has not been lacking in suitors, that Graham person had certainly been around, but he nixes it quickly, the pain of it being true just too much. He thinks that she might just be tired of their arrangement, but that cannot be, because this had been her own doing, she had been the one to ask him that they keep it the way they have always been except that there might be a favourable workout waiting for him when she so desires (or when he does, sometimes, when he's bold enough to let her know how much she turns him on). He hadn't agreed, had wanted to tell her right then and there that she was, is, the love of his life, but he had been forced to agree by the look of pleading in her eyes, and by his own cowardice, his own fear of losing her if they become more and he hurts her, or she doesn't feel the same way.

But enough is enough, and today, he decides, today he is going to find out why she's being like this.

 **...**

Getting lunch these days is futile. She can't keep it down, anyway, and it's just a waste of time and money (though that shouldn't be her problem, or a problem at all). So she doesn't bother, snacks on crackers and tea instead and keeps to herself by staying in an abandoned room and reading. She really is grateful that there is no more than two weeks left to the school year, that it's graduation soon enough, because it gives her the excuse of being busy, preparing for college and all that bullshit. And bullshit it is, since she might not even go.

God. Everything is just a mess.

But it does something good, after all, she thinks, because it gives her a chance not to have to face Robin. She's fresh out of excuses why she can't spend time with him, and he's begged her a multiple times, had promised her that he wants nothing more than her company, not even to, well, have sex, and she had almost said yes every time, but the guilt that gnaws inside of her stops her just in time. She'd seen the disappointment flash across his handsome features and she wants to believe, so badly, that this is more, that this is something more than just them being _fuck buddies_ , that he feels the same way she does, but then she tells herself that if he did feel the same way, he won't have agreed to this arrangement, and instead he would have told her what he feels, that he does, in fact, feels something. But no he hadn't, he'd agreed with her half hearted suggestion that they remain friends, just as they are, but they could do things that are for people more than friends when it's just the two of them.

It had broken her heart to be the one to suggest it, but she'd thought that it had been for the best, she can love him in the ways she wants to, without having to expect him to love her back, without having to give him her whole heart because they aren't about that, they aren't about falling in love and fairy tales and happily ever afters. No, she'd thought that they are about sweaty, naked bodies, and lust...well, that is about to change isn't it?

She sighs and lets her head fall to the crook of her arm where it sits on the desk. She's made such mess of things and she isn't entirely sure how to deal with it. Well, she knows how she wants to, but she is not the only one involved, and that is where it gets complicated.

Though, no matter how complicated it gets, or how complicated it is, she can't help but miss him, miss his arms around her, miss the way he holds her when he makes love to her (even she cannot deny that he makes love to her when they have sex), miss the way he moans when she does something pleasurable to him, miss the way he feels inside her, but most of all she cannot help but miss all of him, every part of him, just him and everything that he is.

She misses her lover, yes, but she misses her best friend most of all.

The door swings open and she startles, jumps up on her chair and curses when she hits her leg on the wood. She looks up and finds a smirking Robin, looking back at her. Her breath hitches and she wishes the ground would swallow her up whole, or that she could be anywhere but here.

He doesn't speak and for a moment she's dumbfounded enough not to say anything either, only manages to fall back onto her seat. She watches as he crosses what little distance there is between them and stands before her, towering over her completely, hands braced on the table and eyes blazing, gazing down at her.

"Wha-Why," she stammers, chides herself for being such a fool before she clears her throat and straightens, gathers what little courage she has left. "What are you doing here?"

He raises an eyebrow and looks at the meagre lunch she has stowed at the end of the desk in favor of the book she's been, or rather not reading, actually if she's being honest.

"What are you doing here?" He asks back, and it is clear in his tone that he doesn't approve of it- from her sudden isolation down to her lunch.

"I'm busy," she tells him, just like she had so many times before, and she hopes it works, though by the look on his face, it's clear that it doesn't.

But it is the truth, she justifies to herself, she is busy-busy stressing over her current predicament.

"Nice try, Regina Mills," Robin says and it has her eyes widening-it's a far cry from milady, or just Regina, or even baby, which he has taken to calling her when they are alone and doing things they aren't supposed to. He looks at her seriously, booking no room for anymore arguments. "We need to talk."

Oh yes, yes, they do.

She sighs and then closes the book in front of her. She's ready to just blurt it out to him and here now, though that hardly seems appropriate, when the bell rings. She looks up at him, sees his jaw clench and his nostrils flare, while she breathes out in relief.

"This isn't finished," he tells her, pointing between himself and her, and she nods.

She knows that. It is far from finished, hell, it has barely even started.

"Okay, I'll meet you after school," she tells him and for a moment he stands there bamboozled, seemingly so sure that she is going to make another lame excuse or escape or avoid this which is exactly what she wants to do, but won't do because it isn't fair to him. "Then we'll talk."

He nods, and then takes her hand. She realizes that they have the next class together, and though her heart pounds inside her chest and she frowns, there is a pleasant feeling that settles in her when he squeezes her hand and doesn't let go-not until they are seated next to each other in the class room, waiting for the arrival of Mr. Richards, their history teacher.

 **...**

To say that he is surprised that Regina actually agreed to meet him is an understatement. He is beyond surprised, beyond ecstatic, actually, to be able to get her alone again. It is something that puts an idiotic smile on his face for the rest of the day, something that Will doesn't pass the opportunity to tease him about-but he doesn't care, Regina's finally agreed to talk and that's a hell lot more than what she's been giving him the past few weeks.

"Don't tell me, Regina has finally agreed to go out with you?" August Booth, one of his friends and the chief editor of the school paper, teases him as they make their way out of the school.

Robin is supposed to go home first and wait for Regina to ring his bell, he'd texted her two periods before dismissal telling her that his parents are out for he day, will only be coming home later that night, and she'd responded with 'good, I'll meet you in your house'.

He'd like to say that he trusts her about this, that she'd actually show up in his house, but half of him (alright, most of him) doesn't really, so he'd planned to wait for her at the corner of his street and wait for her there.

"Oh, for Christ sakes, for that to happen, Robin will have to actually ask Regina out," Will teases him, nudging Robin with his elbow. "And by the looks of it, he's been out daydreaming about her, which, if you ask me is all he'll ever be doing when it comes to her."

He hadn't realized that he's been that transparent.

"Come on, man," John Little, who is by no means little, urges him, whopping him on the back as lightly as he can (which is not light at all-it has Robin stumbling over his feet a little), "Do something. The year is almost over and then she'll be off to college, taking up law and finding someone who is so much better than your ugly, loser ass and you'll be left regretting."

That gives Robin a pause, has him thinking, because it's true. He knows that Regina will be attending an Ivy League university, Columbia, in fact because her mother says so, because she's basically legacy there since both her parents attended it, too. They had talked about it, on one of the rare times that Regina had lingered post-coitus, and had been pleased that he's attending NYU, and that they would be close to each other, not only for obvious reasons, but also because it means that they won't have too look hard and far to find a friend in a big city. What he hadn't thought about right then was that she might find someone else, fall in love, and then what of him? Of them?

He feels someone push against his shoulder and he snaps out of it to find Will pointing subtly, though not so subtly at all, at Regina who is just emerging from the school. He looks up at her and briefly, they lock eyes before she looks away. It's unnatural. Usually, she'd smile at him or walk over to them, since they are friendly with her, too, and say hi. For the past few weeks, she's been avoiding everyone, and now, today he'll find out why.

So what the hell is he still doing standing here with these losers?

He shakes his head and waits until Regina is far out of sight before he bids his friends goodbye, ignoring their ribbing that he's just saying goodbye so he can stalk Regina.

Regina, who is waiting for him at the corner of his street, exactly where he had planned to wait for her himself. He looks at her and smiles pleasantly, pleased as a punch to find her there, waiting for him, willing to talk.

"I thought you'd be here waiting for me by now," she says, smirking at him knowingly. And god, he's missed that smile, that smirk, so much, missed her so much it actually hurts.

"The guys wanted to hang back to ask things for a while before we all went home," he explains, failing to tell her that it isn't so much of a talk as much as it had been them urging him to finally ask Regina out.

"So you didn't wait outside the school to spy on me," Regina teases before she starts to walk towards his house.

He is left without anything to do but follow her, chuckling as he shakes his head. "Of course not," he tells her, grinning. "If I would be spying, you won't know. I think I am rather sneaky."

She rolls her eyes at him as they stop just outside the house, and then she's all seriousness and tangled nerves, unable to look at him as he leads her to upstairs to his bedroom.

He opens the door and leads her in, closes it behind him with a thud while he watches her looking so unsure. He doesn't understand why, she's familiar with his room, even before they had been having sex, but she looks so unsure now and his heart skips, falls and breaks.

"Are you okay?" He asks her as he takes her bag from her and places it next to his down on the floor. He takes her hand and helps her down until she's sitting on the bed. She fiddles with her fingers but doesn't say anything. "Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Juice? Coffee?"

She shakes her head and looks up at him for a brief second before she looks away. He almost doesn't recognise this girl in front of him.

"No, thank you," she says softly. "I'm fine. I just need a moment. There is something need to tell you." She adds the last part as an after thought before she's lost in her own world again. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursing, and breathing in and out as though she's being suffocated-god, he wants to know what is going on.

But he gives her a moment, like she's asked, gives her time to breathe, and seconds tick into minutes, long, long minutes, until he cannot stand it anymore, and he's sliding on the floor, right in front of her, holding her hands in his.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," he assures her, and then he's sighing, letting her hands go so he could run his fingers through his hair. He really doesn't want to ask this, mostly because he isn't sure he's going to want the answer, but ask her, he does. "Are you seeing someone? And do you need our relationship to end? Is that what you can't tell me?"

She looks at him in surprise, pulled back from her little world abruptly by his words. She looks as though he'd grown another head, like he's talking shit, and he hopes he is.

"Robin, wha-no, no, that's not it, no I'm not seeing anyone, unless you count yourself, then no," she assures him and he breathes out, shoulders sagging.

But still, "Do you want this to end though? Is that what this is about? Because you've been pulling away and I'm-" he feels Regina place her index finger on his lips and he pauses.

She leans down and kisses him, kisses him so softly but so passionately he wants to melt, wants to drown in her and never come up.

"No, Robin this isn't what this about," she tells him, and then she bites down on her lip. "Actually it's quite the opposite."

His heart pounds in his chest at every second that passes-and, lord, there can't have been that many seconds since, but he feels his heart beating and beating in his chest, so loud he wonders if it would jump right out of his shirt.

"Robin...I...I lied to you," she says, and he frowns, but waits her out, "I told you that I thought it was for the best that we remained friends even when we were...well...you know, intimate."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think it's good, much less for the best. I don't want to be friends..." His heart stops and he is sure that he looks mortified because she rushes on, "I mean I don't want to be just friends. I...I love you, Robin, have been for such a long time I don't even remember now when I started. But...I know that you don't really feel the same way and I understand that, I respect it...it's just that we have a problem."

 _Problem_? Good lord she's just given him the answer to every prayer he's ever uttered. She feels the same way about him! She loves him! This is the right time to tell her that he feels the same way, erase that doubt inside her that made her think that he doesn't feel the same way. He opens his mouth to speak but he doesn't get to utter one word when the next words fall from her mouth:

"Robin, I'm pregnant."

His heart falls to his stomach, blood draining from his face, and for a second he isn't sure what he's going to do or say or what he feels (he's happy and scared and ecstatic and nervous...).

"And I just needed to let you know that. You don't have to do anything, you don't have to be responsible, you don't have to...I can tell my mother that I was stupid and careless and had a one night stand. I can't stand the thought of you having to be responsible for something like this when I know you...you are probably going to be miserable because you aren't even in love with me."

It all comes out as a jumbled rush, her words coming out in a single breath. And he would smile if he is only sure she won't take it the wrong way, so instead of speaking, he shushes her with his lips on hers.

He pulls away long enough to ask, "Are you sure?"

She looks offended and he sighs because he knows what she took that question as, but it isn't what he means. "Yes, I took a test and it's yours too..." She trails off, though her words are laced with anger, and looks away.

He tips her chin towards him, "I know it's mine, I was only asking if you're sure that we are going to have a baby, if you took the test and all that."

She sighs and nods, is about to open her mouth to speak, or protest most probably, but he doesn't give her the chance.

"I love you," he tells her, then, unable to wait any longer. "I know you don't think so, I know that you might even think that I'm just saying this because I found out about our baby, but I'm not. I love you, I'm in love with you and had been since the moment I first laid my eyes on you. I was just so scared that I would ruin this, what we have, and lose you so I never took the chance, but god, Regina, I love you so much baby."

She looks at him with watery eyes, watches his face for any sign that he's tripping her and probably finds none, because there is none, he is not tripping her, he does love her, more than his own life. And then her tears slip from her eyes. He reaches up to wipe them away. He stands up and cups her face in his hands, kisses her with everything he has.

"We'll make it," he tells her. "We'll get married and have the baby and be our own little family."

"But Robin, my mother, and University and everything," she says, stressed, sobbing all over again as the weight of it all falls on her.

"We will face your mother together, tell her we will marry and sure, you'll be pregnant while on your freshman year, but who cares? You aren't going to be the first or last woman to do that. I'll go to work and study, I can support you. I will do anything for you, Regina."

She smiles at him, and though it is tight, looks like she is anything but convinced, it still is something.

"Do you really love me?" She asks him again, as though she cannot believe it. She probably can't, he knows he's still reeling and mentally pinching himself to prove that it's not a dream.

He nods and kisses her again. "I love you Regina Locksley," he tells, teasing her though he wishes it is true. "And I'm going to love our baby so much. I already do."

He does in fact love the baby that until a few hours ago, had been unknown to him. Now that he knows though, he is pretty excited to be a dad. He's scared, sure, terrified that he might screw this up or that he'll fail Regina and their child, aware that they are too young and they need to consider so many things, but he's happy. How could he not when he's going to have a baby with the love of his life?

She smiles, happy and content. "I love you too," she says.

He moves a bit until she's lying on bed and he's on top of her, straddling her, though careful not to put any weight on their baby (she has no bump yet, that much he can tell when he moves her shirt up to check).

"I missed you," she tells him as she loops her arms round his neck and pulls him down for a long, tongue-filled kiss.

He moves along with her, presses his mouth against hers again and again, kisses her until they are both breathless and panting. When he pulls away, it is only to have one last say before he proves to her exactly how much he loves her:

"Whatever we do from here on, we do it together."

And that is a promise he knows he will always keep.

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 **How'd that go? Let me know what you thought!**


	12. Dark Robin ptII

**So I filled a Dark Robin prompt for Mo9ja before (** _see:_ _ **Chapter Eight),**_ **but I realized a little too late that it wasn't exactly what she asked. And though she told me then that it was good, I still felt bad and had to rectify it with this. I hope I got it right this time. Kinda, anyway, because the original prompt has been lost somewhere in the middle if this shit.**

 **So** ** _Mo9ja,_** **I hope you and** ** _reginamilf_** **like it! Please let me know what you think**

 _My many, many, many thanks to the beautiful and ever patient SimplyMaterial for her incredible beta job. Thanks babe! If you haven't (and I srsly don't know why) do check her videos on youtube. She's AMAZING._

 **Anyway, on with the show.**

* * *

They've reached some sort of an impasse.

It doesn't seem so bleak now, with Robin being the dark one—they're learning to live through it day by day, and she knows that Robin is trying very hard to fight the darkness inside him. It seems that she's getting somewhere with her research, too. But though things are looking up, there is still no guarantee that things are going to work out, and everything seems like a work in progress.

But she tries not to let that weigh her down.

Instead, she tries to devote half her time helping her soul mate fight the darkness, and the other half finding a solution. On good days, when she finds herself with more time, she spends her day with her sons and her love, and just basks in it, making herself believe that she _can_ have that, that she will find a solution to get rid of the darkness.

Then there are days, when she finds the time to just focus on Robin, and all the pleasure they can give each other, when they aren't supposed to be parents, or the new dark one and ex evil queen, but just him and her—just Robin and Regina.

And though tonight she's devoted to getting and giving as much pleasure as possibly, she'd thought that they might spice it up just a little bit. Maybe they could be the dark one and the ex evil queen, and still be Robin and Regina.

Well, only one way to find out.

"Robin, I summon thee," she says into the empty darkness of her bedroom. She'd asked him to bring the kids over at Mary Margaret's for a sleepover (it's Emma's time with Henry that weekend, and Roland—not wanting to be away from his big brother—had asked if he could go with them, and Regina had agreed because it had worked well for what she'd wanted).

A beat passes but nothing happens, and she's not sure why, probably just Robin wanting to play with her a little. She opens her mouth to say his name again, when suddenly dark blue smoke appears before her and Robin stands there in the middle of the room once the smoke dissipates.

"Have you been doing something naughty again, darling?" he asks, voice teasing as he smirks, and there is a glimmer in his eyes which has been ever present these past few days. It gives her hope that they can fight this, that they'll get through this.

Regina stares at him and feels heat pooling down her core. She wants him, wants him to fuck her good and proper. But she wants to play with him a little, just like he'd played with her the last time they'd indulged in this.

Bonus: she gets to wipe that arrogant smirk from his face.

"Robin, I order you to stand where you are and remove your clothes," she says, her voice even, as a smile creeps on her lips. She looks at him with a raised eyebrow and cocks her head to the side, watching him fight against the natural instinct to obey, knowing it's futile.

For a bit it makes her feel guilty, to be using the dagger against him, but then he smirks at her and slowly strips his clothes off, reassuring her that he understands. This is just foreplay, and she would never ever use the dagger against him for greed or in the way Zelena had with Rumple. That's also why she refrains from calling him the dark one. He might have the darkness inside him, but he's still and always will be her Robin.

She bites down on her lip when she is faced with Robin's naked skin, his muscles on full display for her to ogle. His sculpted abs are ones of the god's, and she feels herself salivate at the sight of him.

"Like what you see, Your Majesty?" he asks, voice low, looking down at where he's standing proud and hard just for her. Her eyes follow his and her breath hitches.

"Hush," she says as she lifts the dagger up and waves it in the air. "Good boy. Now slowly come closer." He does as she bids and she can't help the smirk from her lips, as much as she can't help the wetness from flooding her. "Now, I want you to undress me. Just undress, Robin. No extra touching."

He nods, and then kneels before her, slowly taking away every piece of her clothing. When he reaches around her and unclasps her bra, she can literally see him try and restrain himself from touching her tits, and it makes her smile, makes her feel confident and sexy, desired and loved.

"Leave the panties on," she says when his fingers start to hook around the waistband to pull it down. "I want you to take it off with your teeth." And then she spreads her legs wide to help him ease it down easier. Also, to tease him because she knows her wetness had seeped through the lace material of her underwear.

He swallows visibly as he leans towards her stomach and catches the elastic waistband with his teeth. He does it after he sneaks a lick against her skin, and really she should tell him off but god almighty, his tongue on her skin sparked something inside her, sent a shiver down her spine, making her hips buck.

This is torture. Not just for him, but for her as well.

She watches him as he pulls the material down her legs with his teeth, and she lifts her hips to let him ease it down, until it is off. Then, he throws it off to the side along with the pile of her clothes already on the floor.

"Now, Robin I want you to fuck me with your tongue, just your tongue," she says, her voice raspy and unrecognizable. She closes her eyes as she feels Robin's stubble brush against her thighs, and then he's burying his nose against her sex, inhaling her scent. Before she can react, his tongue is flicking against her hard little clit, and she's unable to do anything but lie back and spread her legs wider.

She does like it a lot when he eats her out like this.

A moan escapes her lips when he sucks her little bundle of nerves in his mouth and bites down on it gently, making her hips buck into his face. With a growl, he grasps her hips and holds tightly, tight enough that it doesn't hurt but will surely leave marks in the morning. He sucks and licks, nips and flicks against her clit until she feels like she might cum from his ministrations, feels like she's getting closer and closer to the precipice. But then he moves his attention lower, before she can even bring herself to cum, and he sticks his tongue inside her slit, fucking her with it, pumping it in and out roughly, making her moan and groan, and write in pure fucking pleasure.

God, the things he can do with his tongue.

"I—want you to _oh—_ use your fingers this time," she pants, lifting the dagger in his direction weakly.

She hears him growl, before he's spreading her legs wider, and he slides his fingers inside her without another word. He moves his mouth over to her clit and sucks against it as he pumps in and out of her. For a while, all that can be heard in the room are the sounds of her moaning and mewling like a little bitch in heat, and him slurping and sucking against her. There is the wet sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of her cunt, and god, good god, everything feels so good, she can cum like this, she wants to cum like this, wants to cum while he eats her pussy like it's the last meal he's ever going to have—which is exactly what he's doing.

She feels delirious, feels like she's floating, feels like his mouth is setting every part of her afire, feels every sense and every nerve come alive under his attentions. She lifts her free hand and tweaks her nipple, pinching it just as he adds a third finger inside her, and that does it, she cums and cums and cums, right into his mouth, a scream slipping past her lips. Her hips buck again, but this time he slips a hand under her ass and lifts her further into his mouth where he continues to lap her up, making her cum again. He licks her clean, as she heaves and falls back into the bed, and then his head pops up from where it is buried between her legs, and he stares at her with a smirk.

"Come here," she mutters, and he obeys. She feels his hardness poke against the soft flesh of her thigh as he hovers over her. She feels boneless and sated, but she still wants more. "Kiss me, Robin."

He does just that, letting her taste herself on his lips, making her moan. He then slips his tongue inside her mouth and she tangles her fingers through his hair. She loves this man, loves him with every part of her body, with every piece of her heart, and with every bit of her soul.

She loves him, so, so much, it's almost unreal. But it is real. It is as real as it can get, and he's here, making every dream she's ever dreamed come true. Once, long ago, when she'd been the evil queen, she'd thought of the man with the lion tattoo and how it would have been had she been brave enough to open the door and run to him instead of away from him.

She didn't know then, and she doesn't know now.

But she does know how it feels like to be with him now, and honestly, despite the promises of what it could have been, she's rather happy with this. With _now_. With what's here and with what's real. Her life would have different had she chosen happiness over evil, that's true, but she's not sure she wants to change anything. The person they are now, the person they have become, they know better, they love better, and after they've been through in the past, they understand each other better.

"Stop thinking," he murmurs against her lips when he pulls away. He rests his forehead against hers and steals a soft kiss.

She looks up at him, and drowns in the love she finds in his eyes. She smiles. "I love you, Robin," she whispers. He kisses the tip of her nose and smiles. He opens his mouth to say it back, but she cuts him. She already knows it. She just wanted to tell him. She wants something else entirely. She wants him to, "Fuck me," she says.

He bites her lip, as though there is something else he wants, but he doesn't get to say it. He can't.

"Fuck me whichever way you want to," she commands, gripping the dagger tightly, before she lets go of it, and offers herself to him.

She looks up at him and sees his expression darken for a split second, before he's flipping her over and telling her to get on her hands and knees. She knows how much he loves this position, she does too. He seems to reach better, deeper.

A moan escapes from her lips when his cock presses against her still sensitive cunt. He moves his hips so it brushes against her clit, and she thrusts against him, wanting nothing than for him to fuck her, hard, deep, and _now._

He seems to sense her urgency because he's then slipping inside her, his hard length stretching her and filling her up. He doesn't say another word, and she knows it's coming but it still somehow manages to surprise her when he starts pumping from behind her, his hips slapping against her ass. His hand comes down hard on the right cheek, and it turns her on even more, makes her want more. She takes his free hand and moves it so that he's fondling her breast. He doesn't disappoint, starts pulling and pinching on her nipple, increasing the pleasure she feels tenth folds.

"Harder, Robin," she murmurs, though she knows he's ramming at her pretty hard already. "Fuck me harder."

He doesn't say a word, only snaps his hips faster and harder, deeper inside her. He folds over her and grips her tits harder, his other hand creeping to her front to deliver a soft blow to her clit. It surprises her, makes a jolt of pleasure to run through her core, and she wants more, wants more of that, so she opens her legs wider, and seemingly just knowing what she wants—he slaps her clit once more, and then pinches it as his hips nail her from behind.

She throws her head back, and he seizes the opportunity to latch on her neck and suck, no doubt leaving a mark she'd have to cover up in the morning.

But she doesn't have the moment to contemplate that when she feels her orgasm beginning to build, and he's rasping against her, encouraging her to cum, because he's close too. He alternates between pinching and slapping her clit as he fucks her, and his fingers move from her breast to grab her hair and get her to stay put as he sucks on her neck.

It doesn't take long until she's coming, shaking violently from the force of her orgasm, screaming his name. He comes soon after, her name falling from his lips too, as his hips still move behind her. She feels her inner muscles gripping his cock, milking him, until he's soft and flaccid, sliding out of her, making her sigh.

He moves to lie in bed and lets her collapse against his chest with a content sigh.

"I love you, Robin," she repeats, closing her eyes.

"I love you, too," she hears him say, and she smiles, feeling like she can conquer anything, as long as he's right there beside her.

 **Fin (08/26/16)**

* * *

 **A/N2: Dirty. I know. Would you believe me if I said writing this is an out of body experience? Let me know what you guys think! And if you want me to write you some porny stuff or angsty or even fluffy os, my inbox and the reviews are open. :)**

 _PS. I'm working on some of the other requests I promise. I've just been lacking inspiration lately. Except for smut. I always have inspiration for OQ sexy times ;)_


	13. Home Movies

**Hiya! So I recently retrieved my old files from my broken laptop and I found a short smut story that I was supposed to write for Smut week but never got around to finishing it. Anyway, I finished it today, and thought I'd share.**

 **It's dirty and I don't know how to face people after this, but I'll post it anyway.**

Let it be clear that I'm a little ashamed of myself.

 **Anyway, enjoy you guys!**

* * *

Robin isn't much for technology, not really. Having lived in the Enchanted for more than 6 decades (including that period of the curse where no one aged), he could very well do without the so called technology. If you ask him, it's just another form of people not doing their work and relying on something else to do it.

Of course, that is not to say that he doesn't use it—the amenities are there for him to take advantage of, and Regina does insist that in this time and age, he has to learn how to get used to it (easy for her to say, she's had three decades to do so). And so he does, tries to learn how to maneuver his way into using those technologies, with Henry's help, most of the time.

One thing that has fascinated him most of all, however, and even he would concede how much better it would have been if they had that back in the Enchanted Forest—is the camera. He likes the idea that with just one click he could make a memory last forever, take a still of that moment. Henry says he could even take _videos_ —which are like moving pictures.

It is rather a fascinating invention.

He'd taken into taking pictures of his family, his camera roll (as Henry says) is filled with pictures of his children and their mother. Mostly it is of Regina, and the ones that he loves the most are the ones when she doesn't know he's taking her pictures, and she acts natural, just like herself with her carefree smile and relaxed shoulders. He loves the ones when she's interacting with any of their children and she looks so natural. So at home.

Which is what she looks like now as she climbs the bed in her black lace teddy, hair down, face smooth and shiny, scrubbed free of makeup. He points the camera lens at her, smiles when she crawls to him and plants herself into his lap, shoving the camera away.

"You know, I thought Roland is the only one who likes toys in this household anymore, since Henry crossed the teen stage," she teases, grounding herself into his lap and kissing his neck. She bit his flesh and nuzzled the spot with her nose, smiling against his skin when he let out a little moan.

He picks his camera up again and pushes against her slight to be able to capture her face on camera. "Actually, I thought mommy likes toys, too," he teases back, giving her a smug grin when she flushes, no doubt thinking of the same toys he is referring to, the ones that are inside her bottom most drawer.

"Shut up," she retorts, pushing the camera away, though he doesn't let up, taking his hand in hers and placing it flat against her breast. "Better put that hand to good use."

Robin smiles mischievously. "Mind if I take a video of that?" he asks. He means it only as a joke. He knows Regina won't agree, and really, it's a ridiculous request. And though it would be incredibly hot, he doesn't think Regina wants to grant that particular request.

She bites her lip sexily and he wants to lean over and bite it for her, but she opens her mouth to speak: "You mean like a homemade porn video?" she asks as if mulling it over.

He doesn't even know what porn means, but he's not about to put her through it if she doesn't like it, so he puts the camera down the floor, only to be stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

"Let's do it," she says apprehensively, biting and nibbling on her lip before a naughty smile spreads on her lips and she waggles her eyebrows. "Let's make our own porn video." She buries her head in the crook of his shoulder, giggling, before he pulls her back and kisses her, making her giggles turn into moans. "You know, you should set your camera up."

He shakes his head, "I'd like to take a video of you touching yourself," he requests, watching as she flushes, eyes darkening. He takes her hand in his and guides it down between her already spread legs, smiling when she strokes through the lace, the dampness in them already obvious.

"Yes, just like that love," he instructs in that voice he knows makes her quiver. She lets out a moan, stroking faster, pressing harder, legs spreading wider. He takes his hand away and lets her play with herself, finger flicking against her own lace covered clit as he captures the moment with his video camera. When she lets out a soft moan, he urges her, "Right, you like that don't you? You like playing with yourself."

"Mmhmm, Robin," she moans, her fingers still playing with her core. "Yeah."

Her breathing is labored, and so is his, but he manages to keep the camera steady, zooming in a bit and panning on her glistening wet sex. He takes her teddy further up, revealing more skin, before he tugs on her thong, pulling it down her hips.

"You're beautiful, my love," he breathes when she sits up and pulls her nightie up and over her head. He points the camera over at her face and down her body, lingering on her beautiful breasts, making her smirk when he pans the camera up her face once more.

"Like what you see, Mr. Locksley?" she asks, voice low and sultry, and it makes him harder, makes images flash before his eyes of what he wants to do to her—all the dirty things he wants to do to her.

"Oh I love what I see," he tells her, licking her lips as she takes his hand pushes it down to where she needs him to pay attention, and watches him with beaded eyes as he blatantly ignores her unspoken request. Instead, he glides her finger through the soft skin below her navel, knowing it tickles and arouses her at the same time, and she bucks her hips towards his hand, making him smirk.

"Robin," she groans, no doubt more than just annoyed at his play. But he only raises an eyebrow and leaves the bed. "What the?" she asks, and watches as he faffs around to set the camera in front of their bed and focuses it on the middle where his beautiful lover was currently sprawled over.

"I said I want to take a video of you playing with yourself," he reiterates, and he stares at her as she bites down on her lips and scooches a little further down the bed. She raises her knees up and opens her leg so that the camera has a direct view of her glistening wet cunt.

Slowly, she lifts her fingers to her lips, runs her index one through the seam of her lips before she slides it inside her mouth and sucks, making moaning and groaning noises as she closes her eyes. It makes him anticipate the moment it is his straining cock that she'd be sucking inside that beautiful mouth. She licks at her index and middle finger, making it look like she's actually sucking a cock, before she moves it down to her nether lips, but not before letting them trail down her body.

First she spreads the puffed lips, before she flicks against her hardened little clit, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat. Robin shifts from where he is standing, affected by the erotic display. But she doesn't stop there, she pinches at her clit before she moves her wet fingers down her slit, stroking it up and down and throwing her head back in pleasure when she finally slides them in. She pumps and pumps in and out, in and out, until she's thrusting her hips in her own hands. She leans back, using her elbows for support as she started playing with her own tits—pinching and rolling them with her fingers.

It's hard to try and stand still behind the camera when she's being so fucking _fuckable_ in that position that he doesn't even try to. He moves towards the bed and pulls her to the edge, before he pushes her hands away, dives in and licks at her pussy. He starts with the clit, licking against it and sucking on it, until she can no longer support her own weight and has to lie sprawled on her back, and bite on her own arm to stop from screaming. He moves downward, then, and slides his tongue through her slit, fucking her delicious little cunt with it. He uses both his hands to lift her legs so that she's more open to him, and it gives him more space to devour her, to eat that little cunt like it would be the last meal he'd ever have.

And even if it was, he'd probably die happy.

"Robin," she groans, hips bucking towards his mouth, making him move his hands so that her legs were up but he'd have a good grip of her waist to stop her from moving. He fucks her with his tongue, uses his fingers too to keep her full, because he knows how much she likes it, keeping it up even until she's screaming through her orgasm from the tops of her lungs, and he worries that it might wake the children, except he remembers that Regina always places a sound-proofing charm in their bedroom every night for activities such as this.

When she starts coming down from her high, he flips her over and positions her on her hands and knees, but moving so that the camera could get a good view of what he's about to do to her. He slaps her ass cheek once, making her groan and thrust her rump towards him, and he knows without words what she wants. He gives her another slap, and then another, before he moves his blows to her still sensitive clit. He watches the way her face changes, knows that this pleases her, and he does it once more.

"Look at you naughty woman," he purrs, hands smoothing over her beautiful rump. It's red and warm, and god, this look is wonderful on her—all sexed up and sated, but ready for more.

"Fuck me, Robin," she pleads with him, and though he wants to tease her some more, he really can't wait anymore, so he thrusts his hard cock inside her without another word, making her scream, her inner walls gripping his member.

He doesn't let up though, starts moving inside her hard, deep and fast. She's clawing against the sheets, a sobbing mess of want and need, and he wants to fulfill it, to make her cum so hard she'd see stars. He snaps his hips a little bit faster then, a little bit deeper, a little harder and his grip on her waist tightens. He could feel himself getting ready to cum, feels her getting ready to explode as well, and he tries a little bit harder to bring her to her release as one his hand creeps to her front to fondle her clit, and with a well timed pinch to the nerve and a particularly hard thrust, she cums again, his name falling from her lips in a loud scream.

He's cumming too, he can feel it, and so her slips out of her and moves her so that she's kneeling before him. She knows what he wants, that much is clear, as she grips his hard cock and pumps it once, twice, before sliding him into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down, swallowing him whole until the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat.

It feels so fucking good, and so he grips her hair and stills her head, snaps his hips and thrusts in and out, fucking her mouth with as much ferocity as he had with her hot little pussy.

"MMhhmmm, fuck yes," he murmurs as he pumps in and out of her mouth. "What a hot, naughty little mouth. Do you like being fucked this way?" he asks her, and she hums her reply, sending vibrations through his hardness that makes him lose all control and spurt inside her mouth. She looks at him in surprise, but grins and swallows his cum without any word or complaint, even licks at the side of her lips and then at the tip of his member to clean him up.

She hums. "You taste so fucking good, Robin," she tells him, her mouth full of the fat, satiny head of his cock.

He pulls her up then and kisses her hard on her mouth, tasting what was left of his cum, and moaning at the way her tongue teased his.

Fuck, he's in love with a goddess.

She pulls away and climbs onto his lap, before she glances at the camera over her shoulder.

"Well, that's something we don't ever want the grandkids to find," she tells him, laughing.

He chuckles, kissing her once more before reaching over the side table for the remote and using it to turn the thing off.

"Wanna do some more things we can't tell the grandkids?" he asks, hands already training over to cup her breasts.

She smirks, arching her back, "I get to be on top this time," she says.

And god, he _is_ in love with a goddess.

* * *

 **Fin**

 **(10/9/16)**

* * *

 **Let me know on the reviews where you think I can hide after this smut story. hahahaha! Thanks for reading!**


	14. Public Service Announcement

Hi so this is **not** an update or a new one shot, it's a rant, a vent, an announcement or whatever.

I usually don't give much shit about haters and hate comments. I don't really care what people think and I don't really think much about them. I used to not get them before, but I did today. I'm assuming that the two hate reviews I got was from the same person, yes. And yes, there are only two, so what kind of rod had gotten stuck up on my ass, right?

I just wanted the chance to be heard since the guest who left the review can't be bothered to go off anon so I could talk to them like a decent human being, I'm just writing a long ass post. For all I know, dear guest, you'll be reading my updates anyway, to find something to hate on again. Isn't that how all of you work?

I'm going to say this about everything you wrote: Don't fucking read my fics if it upsets you so much. I'm not holding you at gunpoint to read my fics. This is a free world and you're allowed to do what you want, but hating on something that someone worked hard for that you get FREE of charcge and that no one even asked you to read in the first place is ridiculous and just stupid. You're being stupid. Was it very hard to click the x button rather than continue reading and posting two long ass reviews about how disappointed you are and how I'm the devil's spawn for the plot?

Was it really hard to just leave and not go through with it and say mean things?

Also, don't tell me what to do, as well.

On my fix it fic: If you want to continue making yourself believe that Robin isn't the father, then by all means, continue. But my fix it fic is them dealing with it like adults, which clearly you aren't (if you're gonna go at me saying you're on your 20s or 30s or even 50s, don't. Don't embarrass yourself that way). My fix it fic isn't writing the child off or giving it a new paternity, unless that's what they did or do in canon. Either way, I follow along the storyline and give it a better way of dealing.

I hate it as much as you but it was clear to me and my readers that what I wanted to fix what the fact that they weren't talking about it. That's what I wanted to fix. My better way is them talking about it and accepting it and talking about it and not just ignoring the big pink elephant like they did on the show. That's my fix it fic. That is what I wanted to fucking write about, not a story about how Robin isn't the father. I wanted them to talk in my fic and that's what I bloody did.

You don't like it, find something that fits what you like. I'm sure there is an army of you who wants the same thing and who write that. Not to say that I hadn't wished that Robin wasn't the father, just that I don't see the point of trying to ignore the facts. The fact is: THEY AREN'T CHANGING THE PATERNITY. So, deal with it. Find other ways to vent out your ugly hatred and get the fuck off of my fics. Or if you don't want to deal with that and want to continue believing that things might change, go ahead. I'm not stopping you. But get the hell away from my fics.

And the death/miscarriage fic? Do you wanna say the same thing on the other fics that had used the same event/circumstance as plot? Zelena won? This is fanfiction, darling, an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fanfiction. I don't see how this affects the show or even Zelena in any way. Again, there was a fucking trigger warning on the author's note. Was it so hard to heed the warning and not read it? Did you read it just so you could hate? What the fuck is wrong with you?

I get that I can't please everyone, I accept it, and to be honest I don't strive for it because that will be such an exhausting business. But I do ask for respect because that is the only thing you can give me after I spend hours getting a chapter or a fic done. It's not easy to write. I know some of you think it is, but it's not. You try doing it and then let's see how easy you'd think it is after. So respect because I'm human, you're human, and it's common courtesy.

What I'm about to say next has been said so many times that I'm not even sure how it's not drilled in your minds yet: **If you haven't got anything nice to say, shut the fuck up. And if you don't like the fucking fic, don't fucking read it. No one is forcing you. It literally costs nothing to click on the close button. And it literally costs you 0 dollars to be a decent human being**. And this goes not only for me but for every single fanfic authors who have shared to you the gift of their talent, who tried so hard to write and hone their abilities to give you a form of free entertainment.

I can't believe how people from the same fandom, from the same ship, can be so hateful towards one another, but it's happening, it happens, and I just want you all to take the time to find within yourself where your humanity, good manners and logic had gone, because some of us seem to have lost it. We are shipping the same OTP yet we find ways and reasons to tear each other apart and it disheartens me.

Having said that, I am now taking a very very long if not permanent hiatus from all this bullshit and will not be updating any of my fics or posting any story ( **OQ only)**. I'm not being a drama queen, but today has been an experience and I need to find it in myself to get over it. I also need to find my will to write again. I understand that this person is just one hater among the few people who read my fics, but I've lost faith today and need to find it and get it back.

This is where I leave you. Thank you for all the kind and nice reviews and for all the love and support, I appreciate them and I love you all for it. Thank you.

Much love,

Celina 3


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